


I Don't Know Why I Like You (But I Do)

by ZombieliciousXIII



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cain is a Bully, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Domestic Violence, Erik Lehnsherr is not a Happy Bunny, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Fluff, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieliciousXIII/pseuds/ZombieliciousXIII
Summary: “You’d better have a wad of cash ready, because you’re the only person I know who’ll be able to pay my bail,” Charles huffs, flopping down into Tony’s bed, over stuffed backpack falling with a muffledthudto the floor.“Bail for…?”“When I get incarcerated for the murder of Erik Lehnsherr, that’s what for!”Tony snorts and grins, arms folding over his chest as he stares down at his best friend, “oh c’mon Charles, working with Erik can't bethatbad.”“No,” the young Englishman replies, running a hand down his face, “it’sworse.”~~~~Or: Charles and Erik are two morons that never get along, until they do.





	1. Just as Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> This title is from the amazing song of the same name by The Wombats, check it out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles is not prideful, just stubborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this first chapter as much as I did!

“I still don’t understand why you seem so hell bent on always giving Charles such a hard time,” Steve starts, again - for what must be the _billionth_ time, Erik notes. “He’s a really nice guy, always super thoughtful and whip smart, hell, I _know_ you’d like him and get along like a darn house on fire if you just gave him a _chance,_ Erik.”

Erik can’t help but roll his eyes and the words leave him before he can give them permission to, “if you think he’s so amazing, why don’t you just _fuck him_ already?”

The way Steve flushes still surprises Erik at times, honestly believing the that time of bashful blushing had died out back in the twenties, and yet here was Steve Rogers to prove him wrong; for all his dirty jokes and clear attractiveness, Steve would blush at the drop of a fucking _hat_. 

“I won’t lie, Charles’ an attractive guy,” something twists within Erik just then, an uncomfortable clutching and constricting of his heart as his hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel, “but he isn’t really my type.”

You could torture him, but Erik would _never_ admit to the instant relief he feels, nor the way his shoulders relax right then.

“That’s right,” the young German starts, smirking at his friend, “Rogers only has eyes for a _certain someone_.”

“Erik,” Steve warns, the cherry red flush now painting the tips of his ears.

“What? It’s no secret that _young master Stark_ is an attractive guy,” Erik can’t help but continue to tease, better for the attention to be on Steve than himself. “Plus have you _seen_ his ass?”

“ERIK!” The blond yelps, face - somehow - redder.

Lehnsherr grins, shark-like teeth on full display and guffaws loudly when his Boy Scout of a friend flicks him off as Erik takes the exit to Tony’s house, for a moment he thinks the conversation is over, but leave it to Rogers to never know when to back down.

“I’m serious Erik, I see how you look at him-”

“With contempt?”

“-and it’ll only be a matter of time before someone snatches him up.”

“Why would I care if some unlucky bastard gets together with Xavier?”

“ _Why_ are you lying to yourself?” Steve fires back with an ease that can only come with having asked a question so many times, and believe Erik, he _has._

“Who says I am?” Erik answers flippantly, pointedly _not_ answering with _because the things he does to me are infuriating beyond all belief and confuses me to no end, only made_ worse _by the fact the fucker doesn’t even_ know _he’s doing it._

Steve huffs, “you’re more hard headed than _Bucky_.”

“Thank you.”

“ _Not_ a compliment,” Steve chuckles with a shake of his head. “Well, I guess it doesn't matter anyway,” Erik turns into Tony’s garage, but suddenly, his stomach seems to coil up, “I think your time’s run out anyhow.”

With a shrug Steve exists Erik’s parked car with practiced ease, the two step out in relative silence with their duffles for their weekend at Tony’s, and Erik doesn’t ask what Steve had meant as he locks up the vehicle because _he doesn’t care._ Erik doesn’t care. Really. He _doesn’t._ Charles Francis Xavier had been a thorn in Erik’s side since the moment they’d _met_ , from his stupidly large blue eyes down to his damn posh accent and endless optimism; Erik and Charles were polar opposites that drove each other mad, opposing ends of a magnet that could _never_ touch, no matter how childish-like one’s stubbornness - read: Steven Grant Rogers - and determination is to try to shove them together.

If Erik’s gut clenches at the possible meaning behind Steve’s words, well, he blames that on his breakfast not sitting right.

* * *

 

“You’d better have a wad of cash ready, because you’re the only person I know who’ll be able to pay my bail,” Charles huffs, flopping down into Tony’s bed, over stuffed backpack falling with a muffled _thud_ to the floor.

“Bail for…?”

“When I get incarcerated for the murder of Erik Lehnsherr, that’s what for!”

Tony snorts and grins, arms folding over his chest as he stares down at his best friend, “oh c’mon Charles, working with Erik can't be _that_ bad.”

“No,” the young Englishman replies, running a hand down his face, “it’s _worse_.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

Charles shifts just enough to glare at his friend, “the _one day_ I miss school, you've gone and signed us up for a group project with the heathen just to get closer to Steve!”

“I did _not-”_

“Oh don't even deny it Tony, everyone _but_ Steve knows you've been head over heels for that Boy Scout since middle school.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” the young Stark states with a shit-eating grin, amusement gleaming clear in his brown eyes.

Charles sighs, deep and heavy as he drags blue eyes back towards the high ceilings of his best friend’s room; they haven’t even begun their project and he’s ready to rip his hair out because of Erik. They may have run around in the same circle of friends, but it was no secret that Charles and Erik were always at odds with each other - to put things lightly. Charles honestly never knew where the hostility came from, or how he and Erik became notorious for always bickering, but despite not being able to pinpoint the why or how it's been this way since the ninth grade - hell it’s gotten to the point their friends would use _them_ as a replacement for the phrase _it’s like comparing apples to oranges (it’s like comparing Erik to Charles)._ However, with the long weekend afoot - a nicer way the school had dubbed the need to close the facility down, then again, saying there was a rat infestation would have probably caused for public outcry - and a project to be done, Charles swore he’d do his best to keep _some_ level of decorum between Erik and himself - if only for the sake of his grades.

It was then, the doorbell rang.

“Bitch about the Devil and he shall appear,” Tony sniggers, moving to stand and walk out of his room, the young brunet silently listens as his friend goes to let in Steve and Erik.

Charles could hear the faint conversation of his friends - barring Erik, who he only technically knows due to association - for a moment before Tony’s calling for him, yelling over the distance that they’d be working on their project in the pool house - it was then Charles honestly doubted any _actual_ work would be done today, but with a sigh the brunet grabs his school bag and heads downstairs.

* * *

 

“I’M GOING TO _STRANGLE YOU,_ ERIK!”

So much for decorum.

“Oh please, you couldn't even reach my neck if you tried,” the young man chuckles, staring down at Charles from the pool’s edge.

Charles glares up at the smug teenager, chocolate locks plastered to his forehead allowing pool water to drip into his eyes, and despite needing to paddle his arms to keep him properly afloat Charles still launches a hand out of the water to flip Erik off. Grumbling a very colorful vocabulary under his breath, the seventeen year old paddles his way to the pool’s ladder and hoists himself up, standing in sopping clothes that cling uncomfortably to his skin. Flopping down onto one of the poolside chairs, the young man flicks his wrists, splatters of water spraying the floor around him before running a hand through his shaggy hair - his mane undoubtedly sticking up every which way at the action.

“You okay Charles?” Steve asks from across the pool, still dressed snugly in dry clothes - Charles notes, petulantly.

“Fine Stevie, thank you.”

The Dorito-shaped teenager - a descriptor Tony had lovingly dubbed Steve upon first introductions - nods, hands moving back to grip the collar of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his broad shoulders, and it isn't only Tony that gawks at the sight. It was no secret Steve was undoubtedly attractive, from his Adonis physique to his aw-shucks demeanor; the blond was hard to look away from, though at least Charles was more subtle about his creeping, while Tony’s eyes were as sharp as a hawks’, and the low whistle Stark exhales only served to make Steve blush almost purple - though Charles was sure that was the whole point, sly bastard. Clearly Xavier had not been informed that the first day of their impromptu long - and unsupervised - weekend at the Stark mansion was going to begin with a swim, and Charles couldn't help but pout about the fact he had nothing for the rest of the day, barring the - currently dripping - clothes on his back. Tony was quick to strip after Steve, swim trunks at the ready under his worn sweatpants, and Charles couldn't help but think _a heads up would have been nice, you arse!_

It was then a voice caught his attention; Tony.

“Yo Professor X, just head on upstairs and grab a pair of my swim shorts!”

“ _Not_ a professor!” Charles calls out, glaring daggers at his best friend.

“Yet!” Tony laughs, waving his hands as though to say _get changed already!_

Charles wanted to argue that he was _fine_ , but a crisp wind that blew by rendered his point moot the moment his body shivered, plus Tony was already absorbed in a water fight with Steve - thus, his visual daggers were going unnoticed. With a sight the brunet stands, arms wrapped around his torso, and makes to head back into Tony’s house when he stops.

Whipping around Charles glares, “what? Planning on pushing me down the stairs this time?”

Erik simply rolls his eyes, “oh please, you're not worth the jail time.”

Charles makes an indignant sound, but whips around and marches back to the house none the less, mentally pelting Erik with every curse word under the sun - in several languages, may he add. The duo walk in silence, Charles making sure to walk ahead of Erik lest he attempt to throttle the man, and makes his way up to Tony’s room where he rummages through his friend’s closet. Procuring a pair of cornflower blue swim trunks Charles grins triumphantly, only _just_ managing to turn when he runs smack into a very firm torso; Erik’s torso, lovely.

“Ever hear of personal space?” Charles huffs, sidestepping the teenager. “And what are you even doing here? Didn't you bring your own swimming clothes?”

Erik doesn't reply, instead choosing to rifle through Tony’s clothes first, “looks like Stark didn't let either of us in on his impromptu pool party plan.”

Standing back up and turning around Erik’s gaze meets Charles’ once again, the taller of the two advancing the pale teenager and stops a few scant feet away, tossing the black swimming trunks onto the bed and it takes a moment for Charles to realize what he’s doing.

Flustered, Charles rips his gaze away from the honey-haired man while he strips off his shirt, “there’s a perfectly working bathroom across the hall for you to change in, hell Tony has a bathroom _in his room,_ too! There's no need for you to get naked in front-”

“Why?” Erik cuts into Charles’ tangent with a grin, far too many teeth to be fair on display, voice as smooth as silk as he speaks - a low rumble of amusement that makes Charles hair stand on edge, but in no way he’ll ever admit to. “Are you embarrassed, Charles?”

The brunet balks at Erik’s words, snorting as he meets the man’s gaze in the best glare he can muster, “of _you?_ Don't flatter yourself.”

“Oh then I must be affecting your delicate sensibilities, go on and change in the bathroom, _I_ have no such reservations.”

Charles knows the challenge in Erik’s words for what they are, and makes a point of tossing his own trunks onto the bed before yanking off his drenched polo, moving quickly as to not second guess himself as he unbuttons his jeans and shucks the soaked garment to the ground.

“Neither do I!”

Charles is actually slightly _proud_ of himself for keeping his voice steady, but is still unsure of how much longer he’ll be able to fight the burning under his skin from flushing his face, a task made much harder once Erik drops his pants, too. The two teens maintain eye contact, both willing the other to give in and change in the lavatory like most _normal_ humans would, but Erik is a proud bastard and Charles is - admittedly - far too stubborn for his own damn good; when the first of the two unabashedly hooks two thumbs under his boxers and tugs the garment down, Charles is only seconds behind. _You really are a bloody knob-head, aren't you, Charles?_ the brunet’s mind huffs, but cerulean eyes remain unwavering as they continue to gaze at Erik’s near-gray. However, something shifts in Erik’s challenging gaze, and while Charles has always been good at reading people - some would often claim him to be a ‘mind reader’ - Erik remains as hard to read as ever before, a damn enigma encased in the toned athletic body of a seventeen year old. The soccer player is the first to look away, a large hand reaching out to grab his swim trunks and pull them on, and Charles feels a flare of triumph well in his chest - that is, until Erik speaks.

“Maybe you're not the prude little prince I took you for, Charles.”

The teenager in question huffs a laugh, reaching for his own shorts, making a - rather annoyingly hard - effort of not glancing over at Erik’s nude form to his right. Pulling on the swimwear as quick as possible, Charles turns his back to Erik, tying the waistband-strings snugly around his hips.

“Clearly you don't know _anything_ about me, Erik.”

The waft of hot air Charles feels fan over his shoulder leaves him standing stock-still, hairs standing edge almost as quickly as his heart is suddenly pounding, but he doesn't dare turn - though Charles really doesn't know why.

“Clearly I don't…” Erik all but whispers from behind him, the young Englishman can almost _feel_ the heat of Erik’s skin against his own, swallowing thickly when the honey-haired shark of a teenager remains behind Charles for a moment longer - soft puffs of air still warming his shoulder.

Then, all too quickly, the warmth is gone.

Charles watches Erik come out from behind him and silently walk out of Tony’s bedroom, the smaller brunet’s head spins ever so slightly at the jarring change of body temperature, but it must be nothing more than to do with the fact Erik surprised him - _yeah, that’s it...I was surprised is all,_ Charles’ mind reasons.

He won't ever admit, however, that he _did_ need a moment to collect himself before finally leaving Tony’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed! I'll be back next week with an update, but in the meantime, let me know what you thought in the comments below!
> 
> (This story has also been posted on Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


	2. Ah, a Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik has some revelations, Steve is a little shit, and Charles is a flirty drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Underage drinking.

“Why do I have a feeling we're going to end up in the ER?” Steve worries at his lower lip, plump flesh caught in between white teeth, with eyebrows drawn together in an endearing lost-puppy sort of way - by now it was almost a trademark of Steve’s, one minute he looked like a puppy, and the next he was your grumpy grandfather about to give you the Back-In-My-Day lecture.

“With Tony, it’s surprising that none of us haven’t had alcohol poisoning yet,” Charles replies, but he shared a good portion of his friend’s worry. “And Erik’s clearly as liberal with liquor as he is.”

Watching Tony and Erik across the pool house, both teenagers hunched over and cackling over bottles of liquor like witches over a caldron, and for a wild moment Charles thinks he hears Tony say _get the toad! -_ he reasons his friend had actually said _get the coke,_ though a part of the young Xavier was convinced that Tony and Erik would start spouting off lines like the witches in _Macbeth_ any second. Shaking his head Charles shifts in his seat on the floor, back pressed to the couch with a pillow under his - slowly numbing - ass, Steve in much the same position as he snacks on Dorito chips - and trust Tony to have made _several_ jokes about Steve ‘eating his own people’. Just as Charles reaches for a chip of his own, his phone buzzes and with a raised brow the brunet picks up the device only to grin at the glowing screen; from the corner of his eyes Charles sees Steve trying - and failing - not to read over his shoulder, but doesn’t so much mind as understand the blond’s boredom driven curiosity. However, the splutter and subsequent cough catches Charles off guard.

“Charles!” Rogers croaks, still clearing out his throat and seems to laugh despite himself. “You dirty dog!”

Charles feels himself flush slightly, trust Logan to kick off a conversation with ‘ ** _you’re a damn gifted cock sucker chuck_** _’,_ but the seventeen year old runs a hand through his hair and grins despite himself, side-eyeing Steve and wiggles his brows. The duo break into a prompt bout of laughter, apparently loud enough to pull Erik and Tony’s attentions onto them, the standing teenagers staring down at their two friends as though Steve and Charles had both sprouted a second head.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks, a bemused grin playing on his lips.

Charles glances over to Steve, knowing the blond well enough that he wouldn’t be so crude as to speak about something that wasn’t his to tell - no matter how nosey he himself may be - and, as expected, Steve just doubles over with a flushed face and laughs even harder, which only serves to egg Charles on to the point of tears. The brunet couldn't help but think back to last weekend, Logan splayed out on his bed, legs spread with Charles situated in between them - both teenagers left alone under the guise of _we have a school project due._

“I-I think we outta o-order pizza!” It takes a second, but the moment the words register Charles all but howls with renewed glee, and swats at Steve in uncoordinated retaliation.

Logan worked for a local pizza joint in town, an easy job - he’d claimed - that made being able to gather up pocket money and kept his weeknights busy; with school out it wouldn't be too far a stretch to guess Logan would probably be working tonight - clearly something Steve had, in fact, deduced as well. The cackling teenagers finally settle after laughing themselves to the point of tears, Charles’ jaw and sides ache as he rests his temple upon Steve’s sturdy shoulder, and stares down at his phone with a goofy grin. _Should_ he call Logan? Or maybe at least text back?

It was no secret Logan was attractive in a gruff I-chop-down-trees-and-build-my-own-furniture kind of way, but Charles’ proper upbringing told him it would be rude to suddenly leave his friends - and Erik - without foresight or real reason - aside from, well, getting laid. Though, knowing Tony, that was probably reason enough. However, instead the brunet opens the chat and tries tapping out a reply; “ ** _Well when life gives you a candy in the form of a dick”_** _\- candy? Really Charles?_ Huffing the teenager deletes, and tries again “ ** _I’ve been told my mouth works wonders_** -” _now you just sound like a slut._ Delete. “ ** _How about round tw-_** ” _fuck it, apparently I have the dirty talk skills of a forty year old virgin._ Just as Charles puts his phone screen to sleep, the teenager nearly jerks back at the fuzzy image of a cup hovering inches from his face, making him go cross-eyed trying to see the object.

“Drink up, Xavier!” Tony says, grinning like the manic he is.

“What is it?” Charles questions, slight trepidation in his tone despite already taking the brimming cup.

“A Lehnsherr and Stark original,” Tony answers, albeit not very helpfully, and hands Steve a red Solo cup of his own. “Go on, try it!”

Steve and Charles share a sidelong glance, but with a shrug from the blond and a silent prayer from the brunet, both teenagers kick back the red cup. The drink hits Charles in waves; a strange fruity sweetness was the first thing to coat his tongue, then came the slight sharpness of soda bubbles mixed in, but - to his honest surprise - the mixtures melded together perfectly and almost completely masked the taste of liquor - at least so much so that Charles couldn’t tell what kind, much less how many _different_ kinds. It was probably around his third refill that Charles really understood how much he’d underestimated the amount of alcohol in the drink - or to simplify; it was at the last gulp of his third drink that Charles knew he’d fucked up.

So, really, he wasn’t to blame for what happened next.

* * *

 

At some point Tony had suggested they watch a movie, the four teenagers all packed onto a couch only really half paying attention to the movie playing before them, _21 Jump Street_ Erik thinks it’s called. Instead they drink and talk over the actors on screen, Tony and Erik on either end with Steve and Charles between them, and as much as Erik wants to shove the brunet away from him he can’t help but take little pleasure in the way Charles’ is pressed against his side; a warm and solid pressure against his arm and thigh, one he - begrudgingly - admits feels nice. However, the way Charles seems to lean more towards Rogers irks Erik, and the teenager finds himself fighting the urge to wrap the arm pressed between them around the brunet’s shoulders and snatch him closer.

Okay, so _fine,_ Erik is man enough to admit he’s attracted to Charles Xavier, and alright perhaps it drives him a _little_ crazy that the only time he ever seems to have the teenager’s attention is when he goads him into an argument, and just _maybe_ Charles’ bullheadedness is really more _endearing_ than annoying - but those are things he’d never say to the teenager in question. The reason was a clear one, really, because Charles Xavier _did_ hate Erik Lehnsherr, there was no question to it, and Erik wouldn’t admit that the fact hurt more than he thought it ought to.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Erik mumbles, reaching over to take away Charles’ is Solo cup before the young Englishman managed to fumble over to the jug and pour himself another brimming refill.

Charles pouts, - yes, really, Charles fucking _pouts -_ and Erik won't even _begin_ to try to understand what that seems to do to him. Instead, Erik reaches forward and picks up his tumblr of whiskey - he wasn't much for sweet drinks - and takes a sip, the bitter amber liquid doing it’s job to focus his mind on the burning in his throat than the frantic tattoo of his heart. Sitting back Erik does his level best to focus on the movie, the images are a little slow yet somehow quick all at once, but his tolerance is well enough that he keeps up with the convoluted and juvenile storyline. However, it’s that same determination that Erik would later blame, because for all his focus he hadn’t noticed that Tony and Steve had slipped away leaving him and Charles alone together.

“I want a taste.” The young German jumps and flinches away, only to stop upon see Charles on his hands and knees, staring at him with drunken determination. Inches away from his face, and for a moment, Erik forgets why he’d ever kept Charles away from him.

“What?” He pathetically croaks out, mentally smacking himself for sounding like a gobsmacked fool, and clutches the crystal tumbler a little tighter than necessary.

“Your drink, I wanna try it,” Charles repeats, leaning close, close enough that Erik can almost _count_ the flecks of color in his outrageously blue eyes.

“Charles-”

“Don't be a killjoy Erik,” the teen drunkenly admonishes, finally sitting down and giving Erik the space to breathe, but doesn't miss the way Xavier’s knees press into his thigh. “Let me try some.”

Erik nearly protests, the words all but dying in his throat when Charles laps a pink tongue over tauntingly red lips, the motion is slow and almost certainly deliberate - Erik wants to be angry, and maybe it’s the alcohol, but he’s rather proud of the cunning bastard for pulling such a move. Giving in, Erik holds out the tumbler of Johnnie Walker, only for Charles to scoff.

“What is it now?” Erik huffs, raising a brow at the teenager at his side.

“Feed it to me.”

Erik did _not_ just forget how to breathe, he just...had a mini heart attack, nothing to worry about. Perfectly normal. _Just do it,_ the teen’s mind grunts, _mach es du Idiot!_ Erik huffs and does his best to appear put upon as he rolls his eyes, holding up his tumbler of whiskey to Charles’ spit-slick lips, bitten to a distracting cerise - a nervous habit of Charles’ that may drive Erik a little crazy, sometimes. Read: _every_ time. His bottom lip makes contact first, the tender flesh pressing flat against the translucent surface of the glass, _his lips look so soft...._ Charles tips his head forward while Erik tips the bottom of the heavy glass up, the amber liquid greeting the brunet’s upper lip before slipping past it and into his mouth. Erik can’t help the slight amusement he feels at the sudden way Charles is face screws up, jerking back slightly as he swallows and promptly coughs into his raised wrist.

“God thats-” cut off by another hack, “ _strong.”_

The honey-haired teen grins, taking a sip of his own, “I never cared much for sweet things.”

“A savory person, are you?” Xavier grins, plump lower lip caught in between small ivory teeth; cerulean eyes gleaming with a kind of mischief only the non-sober can feel. Uninhabited and free. “I’ve always liked sweet things far more, like the drink you made me,” Charles leans in, “want a taste?”

Erik swallows as the scant distance between them seems to disappear faster than his heart pounds, and for the first time, Erik Lehnsherr finds himself speechless. Erik was a quiet person - by choice, thank you very much - but _never_ had a situation rendered him stupefied, at least, not until _now_. It seemed too perfect to be true, but already the young blue-eyed teen’s nose brushed against Erik’s pointed one, movements slow and languid as Charles went - Erik wanted nothing more than to surge forward, but he knew better. Maybe this was all some kind of joke? Maybe Charles knew of Erik’s attraction and thought it would be amusing to turn it on him for a laugh? But Charles wasn’t cruel like that, and his lips...Erik could _feel_ his top lip brushing his, one more movement and he’d know what Charles Xavier’s lips felt like. After all these years, he’d finally _know._

Erik’s heart thudded in his chest, a deafening rhythm of irregular beats, and for a moment the young German wonders if it’s possible to drown within the thin rims of blue around Charles’ blown pupil.

Erik’s hands shake; he grips his jeans to steady them.

_So close._

A ring.

A laugh.

_Ah,_ Erik breathes, _a joke._  

Charles giggles and pulls back, running a hand over his flushed face and reaches for his phone as it lights up, clanging against the wooden table top as it vibrates with a new alert. Erik immediately berates himself for being a fool, Charles was drunk and he wasn’t too sober either, the near-miss meant nothing. It _couldn’t_ mean anything, Charles hated his guts, after all. This was just a drunken faux pas, nothing more. Erik takes another long drink from his tumbler, eyes drifting around the pool house, and Erik would deny to ever watching Charles from the corner of his eye - no matter how much Steve bitched at him. Charles sits back up and grins down at his phone, the devices’ light only serving to put the blush dusting the brunet’s pale cheeks on display, and - not for the first time - Erik wonders what the hell Charles’ phone knows that he doesn’t.

Charles moves again, only this time as he reaches for his red solo cup his whole body sways and Erik only _just_ manages to catch the dumbass in time, saving him from face-planting the floor. Charles immediately clutches onto Erik and giggles into the German’s chest, it takes a moment for Erik to realize Charles is saying something, and after a moment of trying _not_ to focus on how wonderful the young Xavier felt in his arms - wow, he really needed to stop drinking and call it a night if he was starting to this of Charles as ‘wonderful’ - Erik gently lifted the brunet’s head.

“Did you say something?”

“Men,” Charles slurs, surging forward only to cling to Erik’s front like some kind of stubborn monkey or possessive octopus, “s’prettyy…look!” The brunet exclaims, holding up his phone for Erik to see- are you...are you fucking _serious?_

Erik fights the impulse to grab hold of Charles’ phone and fling it across Stark’s pool house, instead he silently bites his tongue and glares at a freshly received photo of a shirtless Logan - he won’t even _touch_ the fact that the words ‘cock sucker’ and ‘Charles’ were used in the same sentence. Erik knew Charles wasn’t a saint, that like every teenager he’d probably hooked up with others the same way Erik did, but _knowing_ and _seeing_ are two different things. Erik tried shifting Charles off of him, but his first attempt was also his last once the brunet huffed and simply clung tighter onto him, so - like the dumb schmuck Erik is coming to realize he is - he simply lies there with Charles on his chest staring at _another man’s shirtless photos._

“Isn’ he pretty Er’k?” Charles asks, voice lethargic and dazed, and Erik _almost_ smiles at how adorable Charles was hiccuping halfway through saying his name - yeah, like he said, _schmuck._

“I’m not gay, so why would I give a shit?” The taller teen bites out, the lie was obvious to anyone who knew anything about Erik, but there was no way he was going to compliment Charles is fuck buddy.

“So? Y’don’ gotta be gay to like a han’some peoples!”

“Just shut up and go to sleep already Charles,” Lehnsherr grits out, throwing an arm over his eyes in an attempt to put an end to the conversation, and thankfully it doesn’t seem to be much later that he feels Charles’ full weight sag against him.

Erik tries to sleep, he really does, but Xavier and his damn words about Howlett and his fucking giggling and his _damned lips-_ Erik flings his arm off his face and stares down at the lush head of hair resting against his sternum. There’s a part of Erik that wants nothing more than to throw Charles off of him and laugh when the brunet wakes up stunned on the floor, but just then his heart stutters because the damn teenager curls like a content kitten against his chest, and Erik almost hates himself for how much he adores feeling Charles against him like this; pliant and vulnerable, perfect, and some hair-brained part of Erik all but snarls at the thought of someone else touching Xavier.

Than again, where does he get that right? Charles hates him, the only chemistry they seem to have is built upon driving each other mad, and Erik - despite how much he may want it - can’t imagine another kind of relationship with Charles. Erik was a realist, and he knew there was no way someone like Charles - someone brimming with emotion, kindness and _optimism_ \- would want anything to do with a hard-headed nihilist like him. Erik was damaged goods, plain and simple. Swallowing thickly the German knew this would all be gone soon enough, that Charles pressed flush against him and clutching onto him would be just another memory come daylight, and so until he fell asleep Erik spent his last restless moments trying to memorize everything he would never have again.

“You’re killing me, Xavier…” Erik whispers aloud, his words gently floating out and dying within the confines of the empty pool house; yet another one of Erik’s secrets spoken for no one to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I really hope you liked this chapter, and that y'all SO MUCH for the comments! They made me smile like a damn right goon! Please let me know what you thought about this chapter down in the comments below!   
> ~ Zombie xxoxoo
> 
> (This story has also been posted on my Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


	3. To Love is Human Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out more about Charles, Tony is a good friend, and Erik can be a jerk about English Literature - but only to get under Charles is skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies! I'm SO sorry for the late update!! Friday night while sleeping over at a friend's house their dogs effectively turned my glasses into a chew toy, so I was basically blind all day yesterday, but I got contacts today and finally finished this chapter! I hope this chapter makes it up to you guys, and I'm aiming to get the next one out by Thursday night, so fingers crossed! Thank you SO MUCH to all of you who left comments, they really do make my day and get me pumped to get the next chapter to you guys, that said I hope you enjoy! xoxo
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of abuse.

_Warm…_ Charles thinks, shifting around only to hear a grunt.

Cracking his eyes open just enough for his tired eyes to begin adjusting to the darkness, Xavier pauses for a moment, trying to remember how he’d ended up curled up on Tony’s beach house couch with- wait, _what?!_ Scrambling away Charles flails uselessly for a moment, only to land flat on his ass - the polished wood floor doing _nothing_ to cushion his fall - with a pained groan, but quickly reaches up to smack the person he’d all but fallen asleep _on._

“Verdammt,” a sleep-addled voice rasps, _Erik_ rasps - oh dear Lord, what did Charles _do?!_

The brunet tries thinking back to earlier that night, - a glance at the window proves it to still be dark outside, but only just, dear lord had he slept on top of Erik _all night?!_ \- but things get blurry after his third drink of whatever evil concoction Tony and Erik had whipped up. Shit, shit, _shit, what happened?!_

Erik sits up, a large hand coming to rub at his eyes, sleep-addled voice gritting out, “what _time_ is it?”

“What happened last night?” Charles blurts out, ignoring Erik’s question, trying - and failing - to recall what the _hell_ happened the night before.

“You fell asleep?” The towering teenager answers, as though speaking to a child.

“Don’t be a dick, Erik,” he huffs with a roll of his eyes, “why was I _on_ you?”

“Like I said, _you fell asleep_ ,” Lehnsherr repeats, holding up a hand to silence Charles opens his mouth to tell him off, “you went to pick up your phone, nearly on your ass - as I see you’ve now done, well done - and I caught you, and then you proceeded to fall asleep on top of me while babbling about...something or another.”

Charles watches Erik for a moment, trying to recall _any_ of that from the night before, only able to remember a vague and fuzzy memory of Logan texting him- _oh shit Logan texted him!_ The brunet scrambles back up onto the sofa and snatches his phone from in between the cushions, and Charles’ pretty sure he’s blushing after having read the texts, but doesn’t bother hiding it as he rolls his eyes at Logan’s bravado - sure, Howlett may have been a looker, but he was also _totally_ full of himself. Tucking his phone into his back pocket Charles glances at Erik who stares back at him unabashedly, the intensity of his gaze makes Charles want to look away, but before he can, Erik beats him to it.

“Nothing else happened last night, then?” He isn’t sure _why,_ but there’s a part of him that’s _hopeful_ that there may be _more._

“Aside from me wishing your future partner good luck with how _clingy_ you get in your sleep?” Erik shrugs, “no, nothing.”

Charles watches Erik for a moment before the German moves to stand and heads out of the beach house, leaving for the main houses’ kitchen, Charles on his heels. Xavier sinks onto the living room couch, watching the taller’s retreating form from the kitchen entryway, and sighs _was that really it?_ That Charles just fell asleep on Erik? Yes, _maybe_ Charles was a bit of a lush when he got drunk, and he may not even understand _why_ he was suddenly feeling so disappointed,  but he just _was._ Had he not even tried making a pass at Erik? Hell, Charles had even made passes at Steve _and_ Tony at some point or another, but _still_ not Erik? Scrubbing a hand over his face the brunet groans softly, why did it even _matter_ if he did or didn’t? Erik hated him, and no matter how comfy he may have been - which was _very_ comfy, thank you - Charles highly doubts Erik would _ever_ be okay with a repeat performance.

The young Xavier continues trying to retrieve the previous night’s memories only to be thrown off track by the smell of coffee, and quickly makes his way into the kitchen. ‘ _I’m not gay, so why would I give a shit?’_ the words ring out through Charles’ head as soon as his eyes land on Erik, the latter of the two holding out a mug of fresh coffee, and Charles quickly gathers himself in order to take it. As subtle as possible, the young brunet watches Erik from over the rim of his mug; Erik had said that to him last night, but why? What did Charles do to invoke that sort of reaction? And if it really _did_ piss Erik off, why not bring it up again now? Erik was never one to be silent over his thoughts and feelings, willing to get into an all out _brawl_ to make a point and make sure it _stuck_. However, now? Nothing. Maybe Erik doesn’t remember? But no...he remembered catching Charles, and if his perception of time isn’t _totally_ off, Erik had said those words to him not long after keeping him from falling; point is, no _way_ he had enough time to get blackout drunk by then.

“Did we...did we talk about anything last night?”

“No.”

“But you said I was babbling?”

“What is this, some kind of interrogation?” Erik grits out, scrubbing a hand through his unkempt honey-brown hair.

“No,” Charles shrugs, trying to be as nonchalant as possible while practically _aching_ to know _exactly_ what Erik remembers, “just curious.”

Erik rolls his eyes, setting down his mug as he passes Charles and mumbles, “you’ll be the death of me Xavier.”

Charles feels his gut twist at the words, a familiarity to them all but _screaming_ at him to recall- ‘ _you’re killing me, Xavier…’_ Erik’s words echo through his head, making his heart stutter. The words repeat over and over again, but each time he can’t find a biting edge to them, no trace of sarcasm or wry humor laced within them; just _warmth_ and _honesty_ \- maybe…maybe even a little sadness.

If Charles feels the ghost of a toned arm wrapping - almost protectively - around his waist, that’s for him and him alone to know.

Glancing over to Erik’s mug on the counter, he notes that the teenager hadn’t finished his drink.

* * *

 

“You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m bitter.”

“Oh, sorry, you’re right,” Steve corrects and continues with a level of sarcasm that would make Stark proud, “you’re a _bitter_ idiot _._ ”

Erik sighs and rolls his eyes, “Rogers, I swear, if you don’t _just get to your point_ already-”

“My _point_ is that you’ve been shit-talking Logan all morning because you found out that Charles is hooking up with him-”

“That’s a vicious lie,” Erik mumbles like a petulant child as he glares at Steve from across the dining room table.

“-and now you’re all pissy about it even though that’s been public knowledge - or at _least_ known amongst our group - for months!”

“I just don’t like Logan,” the German states, a tone of finality in his voice that signals the end of the conversation.

Erik pretends not to hear Steve mutter under his breath about him being a stubborn bastard as he sips his latte, a little more sugary than he’d ordered but drinks it anyway, and stares down at the notes for their AP Literature project. Steve and Erik had just returned from their coffee-run to Starbucks, Charles and Tony’s drinks waiting in their cupholders for the respected drinkers, but keeps thinking back to running into Logan at the coffee house. They hadn’t spoken, but Erik couldn’t deny that he’d been glaring at the teenager, though he _would_ deny to having almost torn Logan’s phone from his hand when the man had smiled down at the device; _so what if Charles might have just texted him?_ he’d internally grumbled, pointedly ignoring Steve’s eye roll, _it’s not like I give a shit._

“Oh bless you both,” a voice groans out, Erik and Steve watch as Tony scurries over and snatches up his chocolate chip Frappuccino - Erik’s molars ache just _thinking_ about the sweetness of the drink.

“Where’s Charles?” Steve asks after Tony takes a seat to the blond’s left.

“Hm? Oh, he said he forgot something back at his, but he should be back pretty soon,” Tony answers after a moment, opening up his copy of _Hamlet._

Erik glances at Charles’ drink and wonders if it’ll go cold by the time he gets back, of course he only thinks this because he doesn’t want to deal with Xavier’s bitching - or so he tells himself. It’s not ten minutes later before Charles stumbles into Stark’s dining room, literally, and the young German doesn’t catch himself in time to stop from jolting up in his chair like a worried mother. However, Tony slowly rises from his seat as Charles scrambles over to them, a flood of apologies already leaving him for being late, but before Charles can sit Tony speaks.

“Hey Charlie, can I talk to you for a minute?” Charles looks up at Tony, and swallows before nodding, silently following Stark into the kitchen.

Erik and Steve watch them go, Erik clueless as to why Tony wanted the privacy - he wasn’t exactly _known_ for subtly - but as he glances over and takes in Steve’s troubled expression, something cold coils in Erik’s gut.

_What’s going on?_

 

* * *

 

“Tony, really we have to study-”

“Just shut up and let me see Charles,” Tony says in an exacerbated whisper, already moving to grab an icepack from the freezer.

The brunet sighs, sitting at the kitchen's table and hesitates a moment before rolling up the sleeves of his sweater, lifting the hem just enough for Tony to see his right flank, “it’s not as bad as it loo-”

However, before he can even finish trying to ease his best friend, Tony hisses at the already purpling bruise at his side.

“ _Christ,”_ Tony gasps, his steps faltering a little before rushing over to Charles, and hands him the icepack. “You can’t say it’s ‘not bad’ when it’s _already bruising,_ Charles!”

Xavier cringes, knowing Tony’s right, but he still can’t help not trying to quell his friend’s worries. Really, it wasn’t _that_ bad, minor bumps on his forearms, and while yes granted the fist-shaped purpling bruise at his side wasn’t pretty, they’ve both seen Charles in worse states.

“What happened?”

Taking the icepack, Charles holds it to his side hoping to ebb the low-throbbing as much as possible, “I thought Cain would be out at practice this early, but I was wrong so he caught me off guard, and well…” he trails, gesturing to his bruised rib only to wince at the action.

Tony had known about Cain’s abuse towards his step-brother since the two had been in middle school, though the abuse itself had gone on long before then, and Charles really _had_ meant to keep it a secret - not wanting to worry any of his friends, like he worried Tony now. However, there particularly _bad_ night when he was eleven that left Charles bloody and afraid to stay home alone with Cain any longer, in his fear Charles had called his best friend to come get him, and Tony didn’t even _hesitate_ to rush over and pick him up. They spent the night secretly treating Charles’ wounds in Tony’s bedroom, neither really spoke of what happened but Charles knew he could trust Tony with this secret, and over the years he was _thankful_ that he didn’t have to face his abuse alone.

“I swear, one of these days I’m going to give your fuck-head of a step-brother a taste of his own medicine,” Tony growls, moving over to wrap his arms around Charles’ shoulders.

Charles returns the gesture by wrapping his free arm around Tony’s middle, resting his forehead against his best friend’s belly and clutches onto the back of his shirt, knowing Tony really _did_ mean those words. There had been one instance during their time in the eleventh grade, when Tony had nearly _snapped_ and ran Cain over with his car for what he’d done to Charles, but Tony had managed to gather his wits in time - mainly, because he’d had to talk Charles down from a panic attack. In his rage, Tony ranted on about Charles _needing to go to the cops,_ and while Charles hated Cain _with every inch of his being_ , he couldn’t bring himself to go to the authorities; his fear stemmed from what the fallout might do to his, already fragile, relationship with his mother.

Sharon Xavier was never the same after his father - Brian Xavier - had passed away, but Charles still loved her, despite her clear drinking problems and absence from his life. Through the years there had been moments - no matter how rare - that Sharon would still wrap her arms around him, and - even if only for a few minutes - be the loving mother Charles knew from his childhood, and bless him because Tony _understood_ the need for mother’s love - no matter how absent she was. So it went, Tony didn’t say anything while nursing Charles back to health, and Charles came up with another lie to his friends. After that particular beating, Charles had told his friends he’d been mugged walking home, they believed and fussed over him until he was healed. However, Tony never brought up going to the police again, nor did he dispute Charles is cover story, and Charles had never loved him more.

After a few moments of silence, Tony softly spoke, “Charles, I think it’s best you know,” he pauses for a moment, pulling away enough to look down at his friend, “Steve’s catching on to…well, _this_.”

Charles immediately stiffens, blue eyes going saucer-wide as he stares up at his best friend, “Tony you _promised-”_

The brunet held up a hand, “I didn’t say anything, I swear!”

“Then how…” Charles trails, scrambling through his memories for where he might have given himself away to Steve.

“Charles,” Tony sighs, tilting his head, “his mother.”

That stops Charles in his tracks, sadly remembering the events of what happened to Steve’s mother at the beginning of their senior year, and curses himself for not having thought of it sooner. Sarah Rogers and her husband’s marriage had been rocky - at _best_ \- throughout Steve’s high school years, but the fights came to a head when his father Joseph raised a hand to her. The only ‘bright’ side Charles could think of was that the abuse had only gone on for a month before Steve and Sarah called the cops on Jospeh, after all attempts at trying to help him having failed, and now the bastard was - thankfully - in jail for what he’d done to them. It still twisted Charles is heart to think of that time, of what the kind and loving Sarah Rogers had gone through at the hand of someone who swore to love her.

“Does…does he _actually_ know?”

“No,” Tony shakes his head, and Charles feels a minor sense of relief, “but he’s connecting the dots; a person can only be so ‘clumsy’, Charles.”

The pale brunet slowly pulls out of his friend’s embrace, nodding as he digests the information, swallowing thickly he looks up at Tony pleadingly, “if he figures it out, Tony _please_ convince him not to say anything, we’re nearly done with high school and after graduation it won’t matter anymore.”

The young Stark nods, “I’ll do my best, but you know Steve, Charles….”

“And I know if anyone can convince him of anything, it’s _you_.”

“I’ll try.”

Charles lets out a breath, not fully relieved but enough, and stands handing the icepack back to Tony, “we should get back in there, before Steve gets anymore suspicious.”

Tony nods, placing the icepack back into the freezer while Charles makes himself look more representable, and the duo head back into the dining room. Charles does his best not to falter when Steve’s blue eyes immediately find his, instead smiling as nonchalantly as possible at the teenager.

Clapping his hands together Charles beams at the two teens seated at the dining room table, “ready to get all Shakespearean?”

Charles feels himself physically relax when Steve smiles at him, knowing he’s in the clear, for now.

 

* * *

 

“I still think it would have been better to compare _Hamlet_ to _Macbeth_ ,” Erik mumbles, pushing his laptop slightly further onto the table, stretching in his seat.

“Yes, well, then we would have _all_ been wrong,” Charles says, typing out a few more notes onto their shared Google Doc file, eyes never leaving the screen.

Erik’s about to make a snide remark when Steve cuts in, “I think making the connection between _Hamlet_ and _The Raven_ was a good call, comparing it to _Macbeth_ would have been too predictable.”

“Steve’s right, I can name at _least_ three other groups that are doing that,” Tony adds, moving to stand and lifts his arms over his head in a languid stretch. “Okay, I call break time, Steve want a _drink?_ ” The lilt in Tony’s words makes Steve blush, and Erik only _just_ manages not to roll his eyes - and believe him, it take _a lot_ of effort when it comes to those two _._

The blond nods, rolling his shoulders and sighs when his back pops in relief after having been hunched for his computer for so long, then moves to stand as well. The duo head into the kitchen leaving Erik alone with Charles who, after a moment, sits back in his chair and raises his arm to stretch out his own back. However, Erik notices when the smaller teen winces and quickly puts his arms back down, for some reason Erik feels himself tense at that, Steve’s expression from earlier flashing in his mind but says nothing. Charles resumes typing out his train of thought onto their shared document, Erik watching him type from his periphery while his eyes follow the words appearing on his own screen.

**_‘Note - Charles: There’s a loneliness that both Hamlet and the Narrator of The Raven share, both having experienced losses of loved ones…explore this further(?). While Hamlet seeks revenge, it’s clear that his driving force starts from the loss of his father; why is his path of grief different then that of the Narrator? Why does the Narrator fall into depression whilst Hamlet’s love and loss causes him to turn bitter and angry? Why is their love so strong in their similarity, yet vastly different in their outlets and expression of it?’_ **

Erik’s mind finally comes back to him, his eyes no longer simply glancing over Charles’ questions but actually _takes_ _them_ _in_ , and a part of him is irked at the line of questioning - all of them somehow striking a personal chord within him. He knows the questions are good ones, ones that can further their research into their assignment, but Erik can’t stop himself from glaring at the screen and scoffing.  
****

“Really Charles?” The brunet finally looks away from his computer, clearly confused and raises a brow, prompting. “You’re making _Hamlet_ and _The Raven_ sound like badly expressed love-sick soap operas, it’s childish.”

Charles clearly bristles at the accusation, “Erik _The Raven_ is _literally_ about how the Narrator feels about losing the woman he _loved_.”

Erik knows this, _why am I fighting him on this? He’s right,_ but - as always - Erik still argues, “why focus on such childish things like love?”

“How can we _not?”_ Charles argues, incredulous, “nearly _all_ literature revolves around some _form_ of love, from John Green to Shakespeare! Humans long for a love of some kind, it’s human nature, and just because _your_ heart of stone seems to be the exception, doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t feel that way.”

Erik’s jaw goes taught, a childish irritation itching under his skin, and the arrogant teen finds himself invading Charles is personal space, speaking before he even realizes it, “what do _you_ know about who I love?”

Charles, true to form, doesn’t back down but instead seems a little thrown at the - unwitting - confession, “you love someone?”

Erik nearly smacks himself for his loss of control, instead he breathes deep, trying to think past how close Charles is to him now - think past the memories of how much _closer_ he’d been last night. Instead he stares into pools of blue that seem to swallow him whole, to his surprise Charles doesn’t avert from his gaze from what he’s _sure_ is a hardened glare, and simply stares back _just_ as hard - something mixed in with the confusion that Erik cannot decipher. Erik swallows, his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth, and darts it out to run over his lips before parting. Charles tracks the movement, inhaling in a rasp only to stop upon hearing Tony’s sudden roaring laughter, the sound breaks the tense moment and the two jerk apart - Charles hissing at the sudden movement and Erik tenses.

They both look over their shoulders to see Steve and Tony chuckling amongst themselves as they enter the dining room, they hadn’t seen him and Charles then, good. However, as the duo reclaim their seats and begin discussing Charles is new notes, Erik can’t help but wonder _what the hell_ he was going to say had they not interrupted. His stomach twists at the thought of the _ass_ he would have made of himself, the feeling only growing _worse_ as he thinks about the way Charles had hissed, wincing in what clearly must have been pain. Something akin to anger and worry floods Erik’s bloodstream. _Charles_ , he thinks, staring blankly at his screen as he watches the brunet - once again - from his periphery, _what are you hiding?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it! I hope this chapter was worth the wait, which again I'm SUPER sorry for, but I hope you guys enjoyed and tell me your thoughts in the comments below! I love hearing from y'all! Until next time! xxoxoo
> 
> (This story has also been posted on Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


	4. Luminous Afresh (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Certain bodies... become luminous when heated. Their luminosity disappears after some time, but the capacity of becoming luminous afresh through heat is restored to them by the action of a spark, and also by the action of radium.”  
> \- Marie Curie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o everyone! So this chapter was WAY longer than expected, and I realized it'd be best to split it into 2 chapters instead of stuffing everything into one - which is why the total chapter count when from 6 to 7. Though that said, with the split in chapters, I'll have the second part of this chapter up sometime later this week!! Thank you all again for leaving your comments, I LOVE hearing from all of you!! Okay enough of my gabbing, on with the chapter!
> 
> P.S. The song listed in the story has been linked within the story, just incase is doesn't work I'll leave the link in the notes at the end of the chapter! It's is actually one of my favorite mashups/remixes, I hope y'all will like it too!

It’s nearing ten in the evening when Tony finally decides to call it quits, slamming his - personally customized _science_ _experiment_ of a - laptop shut with a huff, and pathetically flops against Steve’s side, “if every copy of _Hamlet_ and _The Raven_ were to be burned out of existence _tomorrow_ , it’d be _too soon_.”

Charles chuckles, typing out a final sentence onto their shared document before closing his own, “don’t blaspheme, Anthony.”

The brunet huffs petulantly, dragging out the words as a - horribly concealed - grin plays at his lips, “yes _mom_.”

Steve smiles, packing up his own battered device into it’s case, “we should be able to finish the brain storming and group part of this by tomorrow, then we can focus on our individual sections of the project, so how about we order a pizza and relax? We _definitely_ earned it.”

“Yes! Pool side with pizza and beers, you’re a _genius_ Stevie,” Tony immediately agrees, phone already in hand and opens up a food delivery app. “The usual?”

Everyone nods in assent, packing up when Steve adds, “oh, and order some sides too, I’m feeling pretty peckish.”

Tony smirks, a devious glint in his eyes as he murmurs - well, really _stage whispers -_ into Steve’s ear, “sure thing, you’ll _need_ your energy, _snookums_.”

Rogers immediately flushes and bats Tony away, the soon to be mad scientist doubling over in laughter while Steve scrambles to pick up every plate and mug, needing an excuse to jet out of the room - though Tony is hot on his heels. Charles and Erik watch the duo go, both unable to conceal their own grins before snorting - rather unattractively - and shaking their heads.

“Looks like they’ve _finally_ gotten their heads out of the sand about each other then,” Xavier says with a fond smile, and Erik can’t help a small one of his own - Steve and Tony were almost as bad as dogs chasing their own tails when it came to their affection of each other, so it was nice to that their ‘will they won’t they’ have a _happy_ conclusion.

Erik and Charles move to gather their bags, stuffing away textbooks and notebooks alike, grabbing Tony and Steve’s bags as well before heading upstairs for Tony’s room. Erik walks up behind Charles, giving himself the leeway to admire the Englishman’s rear because hey, he was a jerk to Charles, but not _immune_ to his attractiveness. However, Erik was suddenly struck with the realization that he’d be seeing Charles in nothing but swim-trunks again, and couldn’t help but grin - what? He was just like any other teenager in that respect, horny and unashamed about it…well, not as unashamed as _Tony_ , but that was a whole other issue.

Setting their bags onto Tony’s bed Erik moves to the restroom, grabbing the swim shorts he’d hung up to dry that morning, pausing when he sees the baby blue trunks Charles had worn yesterday and snatches them off the rack as well. However, Erik pauses upon finding the brunet, still dressed, and staring down at his phone with an odd expression - one that immediately set the taller teen’s teeth on edge.

“Charles,” he starts, getting the brunet’s attention, “aren’t you swimming?”

Erik watches as Charles opens his mouth only to close it, opening it after a moment only close it once more and shake his head, it strikes Erik as odd how long it takes him to answer the simple question, but shrugs and tosses the piece of clothing aside - he was _not_ disappointed, okay? Totally _not._ Charles abruptly stands and snatches his backpack when Erik sheds his shirt, a kind of smugness filling his chest when the brunet scurries out of the room, a stifled smirk tugging at the corner of Erik’s lips at the flush he’d managed to see pool in the teenager’s cheeks before his hasty exit - so maybe the attraction wasn’t one-sided, then. _Interesting._

Erik heads back down into the living room wearing a Ramons shirt and Stark’s swim trunks, Steve and Tony were already changed and chatting amongst each other, Charles standing out in a pair of sweats and his sweater from earlier, but none seem to find the sight odd - at least, Steve and Tony don’t, but Erik doesn’t say anything about it, either. Erik only _just_ takes a seat when the doorbell chimes, the trio perk at the sound and Tony’s up like a shot, Charles hot on his heels as they go to get the food - Steve and Erik follow at a more sedated pace, chuckling at their friends’ eagerness. However, Erik’s comfortable smile quickly falls into a frown when he zeroes in on - and _glares_ at - a grinning Logan, the teenager doesn’t pay him any mind though, instead he’s already chatting up Charles who- who _giggles_ like some kind of brain-damaged child. Erik feels his hands flex and tighten into irritated fists, a subtle action, but an action Steve seems to catch as he leans over and whispers with a shit-eating grin.

“ _‘O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; it is a green-ey’d monster, which doth mock’,_ ” he quotes, earning a side-eyed glare from Erik.

“Shut the fuck up, Shakespeare,” he mutters, eyes still fixed on Logan who- wait _what?! Why the_ fuck _is he coming in?!_ Erik’s mind screams, watching in utter irritation and confusion as the door closes _behind_ Howlett. “What’s going on?” He demands, not so calmly.

“Logan finished his shift, so he’s gonna kick back with us for a while,” Tony answers nonchalantly, already opening up one of the pizza boxes as he passes, as if that answer makes all the sense in the fucking world.

Erik’s glare tracks Charles and Logan who pass him, chatting in complete ignorance to his scathing sneer, “I hate that guy.”

Steve grins like the cat who got the cream, like the _asshole_ he really is, “no, you’re just _jealous_ , there’s a difference.”

Erik scoffs and rolls his eyes, which only makes said _asshole_ grin wider; Erik’s muttered curse is met with a laugh from Rogers. It’s official, Erik needs better friends.

* * *

 

[ _Ode to Rock_ by Mash'D N Kutcher](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MuG9m21nmk) filter out through Tony’s speakers at a comfortable volume, everyone present comfortably buzzed from their beers as they eat and swim - at one point Steve said they should wait an hour before swimming, then caught himself, only to cuss _everyone_ out when they laughed. Erik palmed the volleyball to Steve at half strength, the green and blue sphere sailing through the air for an easy pass when he hears a barking laugh, the sound pulling his attention to where Logan and Charles are sat side-by-side at the pool’s edge. Okay, so maybe Erik _was_ jealous, but did Howlett _really_ have to sit so close to Charles? They were practically _glued_ to each other’s side, which was only made - somehow - _worse_ as Erik watches Logan’s arm shift from Charles is shoulder down to his waist, but - before the teen's anger could properly build to a scalding degree - worry floods him at the way Charles visibly winces.

Erik moves before he even realizes it, not stopping until he’s right in front of them, “Charles are you okay?”

Charles only _just_ seems to realize Erik’s right in front of him, expression a whirlwind of confusion and panic, “what? Y-Yeah, I’m fine-”

“Get _off_ him,” Erik hisses at Logan, who returns the honey-haired teen’s glare with an unimpressed look.

Logan’s arm falters a little, though, at the brunet’s side, “hurt? Charles what does he mean? What’s wron-”

“Well if your dumbass would _pay attention-”_

“Erik _enough!”_ Charles interrupts, glaring down at him, cheeks flushed and- screw it, _yes,_ Erik finds it so damn _endearing_ that he wants to _tear Logan’s damn arm off_ and beat the man with it, wants tell him to get off what’s his and- wait, Christ, _his?_

_What the hell?_

“Yes, Logan, I’m _fine,”_ Charles reassures, eyes flitting between the two teenagers, “my back’s just a little sore.”

Logan leers and Erik only _just_ managed not to lunge at him when he speaks, “your ‘back’?”

At that, Charles’ flush deepens, “yes my _back,_ we’ve been hunched over our laptops all day, of course it’d be sore,” the obvious _you pervert_ is left unsaid, though Charles’ blushing smile says it clearly enough.

Erik lingers a moment longer, unable to help himself, “are you sure?”

Something swells within Erik’s chest when Charles turns to his smile onto him, eyes soft, “yes Erik, really, I’m _okay_.”

It’s when Logan speaks that Erik remembers he’s even _there_ , almost embarrassingly lost in the blue swirl of Xavier’s eyes, “ _shit_ , I should get going to drop the car back at the pizzeria.”

Charles turns his attention back to the bearded teen, “oh, alright, I’ll see you later then?” Logan nods, moving to stand and roll down his jeans, and stops Charles when he’s about to do the same.

“It’s alright Chuck, I know my way out,” he says nonchalantly, hand reaching down to muss Charles is hair and laughs when the teenager squawks and swats his hand away giggling, with that Logan takes his leave throwing a final wave to the other three in the pool.

Erik and Charles watch him go, a silence settling over them, “are you _sure_ you’re alright?”

Charles turns his head back around to stare at Erik, his pupils wide in the growing darkness as his eyes roam over Erik’s face, but eventually nods. Erik pauses for a moment, then swims forward to pull himself over the edge of the pool, and takes a seat beside Charles - the smaller teen doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that his pants start to dampen at the pooling water between them. The two fall into silence once again, Erik thinks he should leave, the awkwardness and cooling breeze making his hair stand on edge, but stays put - though he’s not sure why. Erik watches in silence as Charles’ legs slowly wade in the pool, stout fingers picking at the hem of his sweater, overtly aware of Charles at his side.

“Why do we fight so much?” Charles asks suddenly, breaking the silence and catching Erik off guard.

The honey-haired teenager finds himself staring at Charles is profile, eyes flitting from his lips as he nervously chews at the lower one, down to the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. However, before Erik can answer, Charles continues.

“You’re a nice person, I’ve _seen_ it, but whenever we talk…we always end up bickering or flat out _screaming_ in each other’s faces,” Charles looks up at Erik, eyes almost heart-wrenchingly lost, _begging_ for an answer, “ _why?_ ”

 _Because watching you get flustered and angry does things to me I can’t explain? Because when you flush and flail your arms around all I want to do is grab you and kiss your fucking lights out? Because you drive me crazy and don’t even realize it? Because_ I _want to be the reason you laugh and smile, but take what ever you’ll give me, even if it’s only anger?_ However, Erik says none of that, instead, he shrugs - he nearly punches himself in the face for the way Charles visibly deflates, looking like a kicked puppy at his answer - or lack there of.

“Can we just…” he trails, groaning and scrubs a hand down his face, “I _know_ it sounds childish, but can we just, like…start over? It’s our senior year and I don’t want to end it with us continually butting heads, y’know?”

Erik can’t help it, he smiles, “I’d like that.”

His heart falls over itself at the way Charles suddenly beams, “really? I-I mean great! Yes!” Clearing his throat Charles looks away for a moment, turning back to look at Erik with a grin and an outstretched hand, “Charles Xavier, nice to meet you! I hope we can be good friends.”

Erik’s smile widens, he’s been told it’s a terrifying sight, but apparently not to Charles because his smile only grows wider as he takes the smaller hand in his own, “Erik Lehnsherr, and I hope so too.”

Their hands linger for a moment, neither looking away, and Charles only _just_ flushes as his eyes- wait did they just? No, they _couldn’t_ have, because…because there’s _no way_ Charles looked at his mouth, right?

“OH MY GOD!” A sudden shout grabs their attentions, hands falling away from each other as they jump apart, snapping their attention over to look at Tony who blatantly gaps at them. “Steve get over here, the civil war has ended! Oh happy days!”

The duo laugh at their friend’s words, Steve whooping in delight before swimming over, and Erik glances at Charles to see him flushed and giggling - Erik’s chest warms at the sight. Charles looks over at Erik as Steve and Tony start thinking up what movie to watch, and smiles, bright and _gorgeous_. His heart stutters in his chest.

Yeah…Erik knows he’s gone for Charles, and for the first time he doesn’t deny it; he _relishes_ in being the reason for Charles is brilliant smile.

* * *

 

They spend the next morning finishing up the group section of their project, this time Charles and Erik talk, and for _once_ neither pettily argue with each other - sure they disagreed and debated points of their project, but no more than they also bickered with Steve and Tony. It’s a foreign feeling to Charles, this companionable _calm_ between him and Erik, and the Englishmen savors every second of it. His only regret is not having spoken with Erik _sooner_ , but he’d take what he could get, Charles couldn’t lie about the way his stomach flipped and his chest warmed each time Erik joked or laughed _with_ him and not _at_ him. His heart would stutter each time and it took _everything he had_ not to blush each time Erik flashed him a smile, large and oh so damn endearing, a part of him wonders how he’d been able to go so long without it - sure, he’d seen Erik smile in the past, but never _because of_ _him._

“Alright, I think we got it all,” Erik says after a moment, writing out a final note on their document, looking around the table, “anything else to add?”

The other trio look over the document one last time and shake their heads, Tony grins and punches the air, belting, “ _oh sweet lord have mercy!”_

Steve chuckles but clears his throat, pointedly looking at Tony who rolls his eyes.

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell ‘em,” Erik and Charles glance at each other before looking over to their friends, “Stevie and I are going on our first date tonight!”

Charles’ smile widens, “congratulations you two, I hope you have a great time!”

Erik rolls his eyes and chuckles, “ _finally_ , it’s been like watching paint dry watching you two pine after each other.”

Charles nudges and shoots him an admonishing look, though it’s undoubtedly undercut by his delighted grin, Erik smirk back at the brunet and shrugs, “what? You can’t say it _wasn’t_.”

Xavier shakes his head and giggles, the group chatting about what they’ll each be doing on their own as well as what Steve and Tony plan on doing tonight - dinner and a movie apparently, a part of Charles is surprised Tony hadn’t wanted to order a _helicopter_ to take them to Cony Island or something, though Steve assures him he _did_ have to bargain it down to something simple. What he bargained? Well, Charles is pretty sure Tony’s smirk and Steve’s uncanny impression of a tomato was answer enough. However, as they all began to pack up Charles felt his stomach sinking, Cain was home and his parents weren’t…breathing deeply he hoped for the best, deciding to cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he wouldn’t allow his step-brother to dampen his bubbly mood.

“Charles, want a ride?” Erik asks when he moves to stand, slinging his backpack onto broad shoulders.

The young Xavier feels Tony’s eyes on him, but smiles wide and unfettered, hoping it’s believable when he answers, “that would be lovely, thank you, Erik.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah that’d be great, I need to get home and shower,” he answers, grabbing his own backpack.

“Alright, we’ll meet outside then, I gotta grab my duffle from Tony’s room.”

Steve says something about needing to use the restroom anyway and follows after Erik, leaving Tony and Charles alone; Charles can’t say he didn’t expect it when Tony walks up to him and places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Will you be okay?” For the years Charles had known Tony, never _once_ had his best friend spoken to him with pity or treated him as though he couldn’t care for himself, and for that Charles would forever be grateful - for once, he could repay that trust by _not_ allowing Tony to worry about him while on his first date with Steve.

“Yes, don’t worry,” Charles answers, smiling at the brown eyed teen. “Focus on tonight, you two really _do_ deserve a good night after all this time.” Tony searches his face for a moment, and Charles _yanks_ on every and any bit of acting talent he has to convey an expression that Stark will believe, and almost slumps over in relief when Tony smiles.

“Oh trust me, I plan on having a _very_ good time.” Charles makes a playful noise of disgust as he tries shoving Tony away who laughs, their chuckling tapering off when Tony adds, “call me if you need anything, alright?”

Charles wants to argue, but knows better and simply nods, hugging his best friend once more. Pulling apart the duo wander out to Tony’s garage to Erik and Steve already there waiting for them, and suddenly a part of Charles os worried they’d heard he and Tony’s conversation, but relaxes when he sees their friends smile at them - _they hadn’t overheard, then_. With one more farewell to Tony the three pile into Erik’s beat up car, the radio immediately begins to play Oasis’s _Wonderwall,_ and Erik reaches up to change the station but Charles quickly stops him.

“No! Keep it, I love this song,” Erik glances at Charles with an unimpressed look that’s undercut by the grin ghosting his lips, “please?”

The teenager rolls his eyes but relents, instead reaching to turn the volume up, and Charles smiles as he sings along unabashedly, Steve and Erik - which genuinely surprises Charles - soon join in. The trio - with slight talent and _absolute_ enthusiasm - belt the words aloud, Charles and Steve clapping as Erik taps out the beat against his worn steering wheel, and Charles is sure he isn’t the only one steeling glances at Erik - especially if the few times their eyes locked were any kind of evidence. The song switches over and soon enough Steve’s rushing out of the car to get ready for his date, Charles and Erik chuckle at the blond’s terribly hidden excitement, the latter turning to the young man in his passenger seat.

“You know how to get to your place from here?”

Charles turns his attention back to the German, a little confused but his brows raise in realization soon enough, “holy crap, that’s right, you’ve never been to mine, have you?”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Erik humors Charles nonetheless, “we were only ever at each other’s throats so I never had a reason to come to your house, I’m sure you thought I’d set your place on fire or something,” he chides, pulling out of Steve’s driveway and Charles tells him to take a left at the end of the road.

“Hey it’s not like you invited me over either!” The brunet exclaims indignantly, if a little embarrassed - manners would dictate Charles at least have invited Erik over _once,_ but clearly he’s been a bit of an arse over the last few years.

Well, it takes two to feud, so Charles doesn’t feel _completely_ terrible.

Erik grins, wide and heart-stopping as he winks, “I _knew_ you’d set my house on fire,” Charles splutters, flustered scrambling for a rebuttal, and Erik relents through his laughter, “fine, fine, at _least_ my bed.”

The duo laugh and lapse into amicable chatter for the rest of the car ride, bantering and debating the merits of the points presented in their group project, and for the first time it hits Charles that he really knows _nothing_ about Erik - at least, nothing that _matters_. Over the years Charles has been observant enough to know simple things about Lehnsherr, like his favorite color - magenta, surprisingly - and his birthday - April, 2nd, the same day as Hans Christian Anderson - but nothing…intimate, you could say. Though, it’d be a lie to claim he didn’t _want_ to know anything and _everything_ about Erik, from the last book to make him cry to whether he preferred the left or right side of the bed. Charles’ thoughts fluster him slightly, but he manages to tamp down any sign of it, instead happily listening and animatedly answering throughout their conversation, comforted by the Erik’s baritone voice. They arrive at his house before either realize, too soon, perhaps. Erik parks the car just in front of the house’s steps, music muted and the silence that over comes them is slightly awkward, both clearly wanting to say something but neither seeming to have the words.

“Thank you-”

“I’ll see you-”

They both start at once, stopping just as abruptly before laughing, the tension gone as Erik grins at the teenager beside him, “you go first.”

Charles smiles, “Erik...I really am happy about this ‘fresh start’ thing, thank you again for giving it a try.”

The young German stares at Charles for a moment, eyes searching for…something, _for what?_ Charles doesn’t know, but Erik seems to find it because his smile widens slightly, “thank _you_ for willing to give me another chance.” They lull into another short pause, Erik running a pink tongue over his lips, “I mean…looking back over the years, I _may_ have been a _bit_ too hard on you.”

Charles snorts, sudden, ungraceful and fond as he takes in the sheepish teenager to his left, “wow Erik, no need to _grovel_.” Rolling his eyes Erik playfully swats Charles is shoulder, earning another laugh from the brunet, “we’ve both been idiots, but…I look forward to seeing where this goes.”

The way Erik’s face softens, makes him look young and gentle, sets something in Charles is chest alight, and he moves before even really registering it; he hugs Erik. The taller teenager stiffens in his arms, and something sinks in Charles is gut, the feeling warped and cold in his stomach, _fear_ suddenly making Charles believe he’d pushed for far too much too fast. Charles begins to pull away, mouth already parted in an apology, ready to _beg_ that his idiocy hadn’t costed them their tentative new beginning. However, the panicked seconds are immediately calmed when lithe arms wrap around Charles, pulling him back in and the angle is awkward, uncomfortable with the gearstick digging into his side, but Charles doesn’t _dare_ complain.

“Sorry I just…” Charles trails, voice soft, not wanting to break the spell that seems to have taken over within the care.

“Don’t apologize,” Erik’s voice is just as soft, if a little deeper, and Charles does his best to fight off a shiver.

Perhaps they hug longer than is appropriate, or maybe not long _enough,_ either way Charles feels it’s far too soon when they finally break apart. Erik seems to catch the way he flinches as he straightens, despite Charles is best efforts to bite back the twinge of pain that races up his side, and the worry in the young man’s eyes warms his chest - even ebbing away the trepidation he feels about entering his home. Charles never once thought that any of Erik’s concerning looks would be on him, but now that he’s been on the receiving end of his kind and clever gaze, Charles doesn’t think he ever wants it to _stop._ However, for now, Charles lies and does his best to wave off Erik’s worries, repeating the earlier lie he’d used at the pool.

“At least promise me you’ll get yourself checked out if it doesn’t go away?” His words are more of a promise than a question, leaving no room for argument, and Charles gives in to his need to smile at Erik’s fretting - he was almost as bad as Steve, but in that same sweet way, _Erik…’sweet’, never before did I think I’d have the two words in the same sentence._

“I promise.”

There’s a moment of calm that follows, both teenagers staring at each other with playful grins, the quiet in the car not stifling but comforting, and Charles hates that he has to leave - only _just_ managing to keep the request of driving around the block once, twice, or maybe _three_ more times just to stretch out their time together. He knows there’s something that should be said, should be _done,_ but when neither move nor speak Charles says a final goodbye and exists the vehicle. The young Xavier watches Erik drive away, following the beat up car’s path down his long driveway until it disappears around the corner, and if Charles smiles moronically to himself, well that’s only for him and him alone to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! Erik and Charles seem to FINALLY be on the same page! 
> 
> Link to 'Ode To Rock' by Mash'D N Kutcher: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MuG9m21nmk
> 
> (This story has also been posted on Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


	5. Luminous Afresh (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They sicken of the calm who know the storm.”  
> ― Dorothy Parker, Sunset Gun: Poems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I would just like to start off by saying THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND SUPPORT FOR THIS STORY!! IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!! That said...*starts digging a hole* here's an early update, part 2 of the last chapter! *Jumps into hole* I hope you guys enjoy this, but it mayyyy be a hard read...*starts burying myself in the hole* sorry in advance!!

Charles enters his house, pausing at the front door and strains to hear for any signs of another person, upon hearing the continued buzzing of silence he breathes a relieved sigh and fully enters, heading up the stairs two at a time to his room. Closing his room door, Charles tosses his phone onto the bed and backpack beside it, slowly stripping out of his clothes as he walks over to the restroom - all the while, still smiling. _These past few days definitely didn’t go as I thought they would,_ Charles had believed at least _one_ of Maria’s vases may have been caught in the cross-fire during his time with Erik, and yet… _we’re actually_ friends _now._ The thought alone made him smile wider.

Stepping into the bath, the young brunet tests the water before turning on the overhead, and nearly moans at the feeling of the warm water washing over him. Charles takes his time showering, enjoying the warmth enveloping him as he scrubs away any traces of chlorine from his hair and skin; watching the subs of soap travel down pale skin, and wonders, just for a moment, what those same suds would look like trailing down Erik’s golden skin. _Get a grip, you damn floozy!_ Charles bites his lip, worrying at the flesh as he screws his eyes shut, and thinks of any and _every_ disgusting thing under the sun to make his teenage libido calm down - it doesn’t work.

Charles groans at his erection, but relents and takes it into his hand, the soap easing each stroke and bites back a moan - even in the privacy of his own room, Charles was too paranoid to make too loud a noise. Leaning forward he rests his forehead against the cool marble tiles, the steam of the heated water enveloping him as he - pointedly - thinks of nothing at all, and simply tries to chase his release. However, maybe Charles was too optimistic to believe his brain would let him off that easy, because each time he closed his eyes, images of sun-kissed skin and shark-like smiles would invade his mind. Charles knew it was wrong to think of a friend in such a way, but his mind wouldn’t relent. Flashes of Erik playing basketball with Steve and Bucky, just as sweaty and shirtless as them, muscle dancing under golden skin as he moves; his pace picked up. The way Erik smiled at Charles at the pool, eyes warm and bright; his breathing hitches. The feeling of Erik’s lithe arms around him as he held Charles as they slept, so much larger than Charles, and the way they somehow felt _perfect_ pressed against each other; his skin felt like it was on fire.

A large smile and kind eyes play across his mind, almost like a movie reel, and shivers at the memory of words spoken in a musical baritone, _Erik Lehnsherr, and I hope so too._

Charles was done for.

The teenager doubles over with a muffled shout, biting into his left forearm as his release paints the marbled wall, and watches, dazed, as the stripes of white are slowly washed away by the shower-head. Charles feels his knees go weak, his thighs trembling, but manages to keep them from buckling, and breathes deep, _I’m gone on him, aren’t I?_ He sigs and turns back under the water’s cascade, finishing up his shower before closing the tap, _you’re a genies Charles, you know the answer to that._

Charles exits the lavatory with a cloud of steam following quickly after him, blue eyes scanning around his room before snagging on his phone lying atop the mattress, as if beckoning him over. Charles wanders over and takes the device into his still damp hand, teeth nibbling at his gull lower lip, stomach swooping. He stares at the black screen, his reflection staring back, and wonders if it would come off as too clingy or off putting text Erik so soon after having seen him.

“Charles you just made up after years of nearly _killing_ each other,” he tells himself, still staring at the device in his hand, “don’t be clingy, it’s weird.”

The brunet tosses the phone back onto his bed, and it’s definitely _not_ because he’d probably do something stupid otherwise, and heads downstairs to grab a snack from the kitchen before starting on his section of their project. Charles pointedly does _not_ think about honey-colored hair and steel-blue eyes, nor does his mind recall shark-like smiles and reverberating laughter, and he _swears_ the shiver that runs up his spine is only because the house is cold and not because his skin buzzes at the memory of sinew muscles wrapped around him - _yes, just like you_ weren’t _thinking of Erik in the shower, right?_

Charles sighs, resting his forehead against the cool kitchen island, _I’ve got it so bad…._

And that’s how Charles finds himself here, sat tailor-style on his bed staring down at his phone, snacks and project forgotten. There’s a moment’s hesitation before he finds the device in his hand, Erik’s contact information almost taunting him, _daring him,_ somehow; _one text wouldn’t be so bad, right?_ But what would he say? _I could ask a question about the project_ , but that would probably come off as an obvious lie since they all had copies of their notes on their laptops - it was something _Charles_ had insisted on, after all. He could- _that’s it!_ Charles quickly types out the message and hits send before he can second guess himself, but immediately groans and buries his face in his hands, really Charles? _That’s_ the best you could come up with?!

**_You - 6:47PM: Hey Erik, thank you again for dropping me home. It’s Charles btw._ **

The words stare back at him, almost audibly mocking him for his idiocy, and no matter how much Charles admits to being an idiot, he’d _never_ admit to nearly jumping out of his skin and fumbling to grab hold of his phone when it rings. The name _Erik Lehnsherr_ flashes across his screen and Charles is mind goes blank, _holy shit! He’s calling!_ Why _is he calling?! Did he forget something? Was the message too forward? Fuck!_ Biting the bullet the brunet answers, lips parted to speak, but the voice on the other end of the line beats him to it.

“ **New phone, who dis?** ” Erik asks, and Charles tries not to flinch at the painful snaring he feels in his chest.

“Charles?” He answers tentatively, the other teenager’s tone so blithe he honestly isn’t sure how to answer. “Charles Xavier? From school-” The sudden and braying _laughter_ that cuts him off immediately and has the teenager grinning like a mad man, laughing in a strange combination of relief, amusement, and indignation.

“ **You really think I’d _ever_ answer my phone with the words ‘who dis’? I thought you knew me better then that, Charles,**” Erik’s voice is playful, and Charles _swears_ he can almost see the smile they’re spoken with. “ **I’ve had your number since the tenth grade, you moron.** ”

The words are spoken with such playful amusement that Charles can only giggle, “oh really? So you just enjoy making an arse out of me then?” He takes Erik’s chuckle as answer enough. “If you’ve had my number all this time, why haven’t you contacted me before now?”

“ **Why haven’t _you_ contacted me?** ”

“Fair enough.” They lapse into a small silence, Charles scrambling for something to say when Erik shows him mercy.

“ **Okay, I can’t be the _only_ one who thought Steve basically resembled an excited Golden Retriever in the car earlier, right?** ”

Charles laughed at the conversational opening, unable to help how wide his grin stretches as he answers, “are you kidding? That was _nothing_ compared to Tony’s Chihuahua impression, he was practically _vibrating_.”

The conversation flows easily between them after that, just like it had in the car, and Charles doesn’t realize just how much he’s smiling until his cheeks are aching - but even then he doesn’t stop. Erik is charismatic and whip smart, his dry humor and biting wit rivaling Charles’ own, and he can’t help but wonder what it would have been like had they decided to properly speak years ago; would their conversations have always been this easy? Would they have been this close? Closer? Charles flushes at the thought and is more than thankful he’s alone in his room. Erik’s voice quells something within Charles he never knew he longed for, their conversations spanning from inconsequential to political, they butt-heads every now and then, but unlike before none of their retorts are belted with ire or patronizing sarcasm.

Their conversation lasts a solid two hours, perhaps a little longer, and Charles doesn’t want it to end, but like all things it eventually does.

There’s a pause on Erik’s side, a muffled curse, “ **I’m sorry but I have to go, my mother’s heading out of town to see her sister for the week and she wants me to help her pack.** ”

Charles can’t help the immediate thoughts of _no please don’t,_ but knows he’s being childish just as quickly, “it’s alright, don’t worry.”

There’s a brief pause, Erik saying nothing and for a moment Charles thinks he’s ended the call, but when the German finally speaks he sounds hesitant - and Charles can’t help but find it far more endearing than it should be.

“ **I’ll talk to you later?** ”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Charles answers, genuinely honest and he’s sure his beaming smile translates his sincerity just as much. “Thank you, for calling, I…I really enjoyed talking with you, Erik.”

“ **Me too, Charles,** ” Erik answers, the warmth in his voice making the young Englishman shiver, and smile like a flustered fool. “ **I’ll call you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Charles.** ”

“Tomorrow,” Charles grins, nibbling at his lower lip as he sinks further down the mattress’s headboard, “Goodnight, Erik.” 

Just like in the car, there’s a moment of pause after they say their goodbyes, the silence loaded yet somehow comfortable, both dancing around something neither seem ready to say aloud. All too soon, Erik say another final goodbye and they end the call, Charles preens down at his phone, and _maybe_ it takes him a little longer to become fully immersed in his project than it normally would - but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. Eventually Charles zeros in on his project and gets swept away in theories and comparisons, fingers typing with quick and practiced efficiency, the words all but spewing out of him so it’s a surprise when he’s jolted awake by a muffled crash. When had he falling asleep? Charles blinks blearily at his laptop to find the screen black, reaching for his phone and the device tells him it’s a little past three in the morning, worry, fear, and confusion all suddenly flitting around his sleep-addled mind.

Had his mother come home? It wouldn’t be the first time she’d returned home early from a ‘vacation’ to drink at home in the familiar solitude of her bedroom, but she rarely does so sober, and Charles genuinely worries that Sharon is probably trying to come up the stairs and is moments away form a misstep and breaking her neck. With that thought in mind the young brunet moves quickly out of his room and down the halls of the family mansion, a large maze he called his house but never his home, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he turns a corner only to run face-first into something and fall flat on his ass.

It’s right then Charles _wishes_ he could turn back time and not tiredly seek out the noise, _loathes_ himself for not having put two-and-two together before leaving his room the corner; more than anything, Charles just wishes he’d stayed asleep. Oh how he wishes. However, the mistake was already made…and now he was staring up at the towering drunkard, glassy eyes focused on him, a smirk stretching meanly across thin lips - Charles’ hands began trembling.

”Hey Charlie,” the greeting is slurred and ugly, a sneer that makes the brunet’s hair stand on edge as he tries to subtly crawl away, “where'd ya r’n off to yesterday? We didn’ f'nish our chat…"

"Cain, please…” Charles pleads, almost far enough out of reach of his step-brother, if he can _just_ get a little further the can run and get to his room- suddenly, Cain is on him.

Screaming is all that fills Charles is ears as stars dance behind his eyes.

 _His_ screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, DUUUUUNNNNNNN!!! Cliffhanger, I know, I suck! I'm sorry! Also, I know this chapter was shorter than normal, but I promise there will be another chapter up this weekend!! Leave your thoughts in the comments, I love hearing from all of you!!! xxoxoo
> 
> (This story has also been posted on Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


	6. Du Bist Nicht Allein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I'm SUPER sorry for the delay! Things have been hectic with me going back to work and some personal issues, but I hope this chapter makes it up to you! I'll be posting the final chapter this weekend, and I just want to say THANK YOU to you wonderful commenters, I LOVE hearing from you all!!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Translations are in the end notes!)

“Was zum Teufel?” Erik grumbles, turning over in his bed, glaring at his phone for a moment while it vibrates and shrieks at him from his bedside table.

For a second he considers not answering, especially when the clock beside the device informs him it’s nearly _four_ in the morning; _seriously,_ he grumbles internally, _who the hell is calling at this time?!_ However, the thought that maybe his mother had forgotten something, or something had happened has him reaching for the phone, answering blindly Erik holds the device to his ear.

“Hall-” Erik’s words are cut off by a hysterical cry, the teenager shoots up in his bed, heart pounding in panic.

“ **E-Erik I …I n-need you,** ” Charles is frantic voice stutters out in between gasps and choked sobs, but the teenager’s already half way out the house, “ **I-I’m so…so _sorry_ , but please… _please_ come! H-He’s coming f-for me and I don’t…I _don’t_ _know_ what to do.** ”

Erik all but rips his car door open and slams it shut seconds later, “who Charles? Who is coming after you?!”

“ **Cain,** ” cries the teenager, words slurred and distraught, “ **he…he has a g-gun Erik,** ” if Erik had been scared before, it’s nothing compared to the _petrified_ feeling that tears through him at those words, “ **I-I’m hiding…but he- he’ll find me, please come…please I’m s-sorry-** ”

“I’m on my way Charles, just _stay where you are_ ,” Erik rushes out, heart pounding in his throat, “just..just keep talking to me, I’m coming for you.”

“ **He got _so angry_ Erik, I just..I just wanted him to _stop!_** _”_ Charles pauses, shaky gasps blowing against the phone’s microphone far too fast to be good, _he’s going to have panic attack, Scheiße._ “ **I didn’t- it was an _accident!_ I…I didn’t _mean_ to-** ”

Erik can barely see past the red threatening to blind him, heart hammering it’s way out of his chest as barrels down the street, absolutely sure he’d broken more than one speed limit, but the fact doesn’t even _register_ in his mind that screams out _CharlesCharlesCharlesCHARLES!_

“Talk to me Charles, I’m almost there,” Erik all but begs, taking a sharp turn, his tires squealing in protest to the sudden jerk. “It’ll be okay, I’m so close, _please_ just keep talking to me!”

“ **E-Erik I’m so- I’m _scared_ , he- he’s _n-never_ been _this_ _angry_ -**” suddenly Charles stops, Erik thinks his _heart stops right then_ as he helplessly listens; Charles screams.

The line goes dead.

“Charles?” Erik cries out, voice shaking. “ _CHARLS?!”_

Nothing.

It’s terrifyingly surreal to think just a couple of hours ago, he’d gone to sleep thinking of the teenager, a smile on his lips.

And now, Erik has no idea _what_ to think.

Erik’s tires screech as they come to a sudden halt outside of the Xavier mansion, the young teenager all but throwing himself out of the vehicle and racing towards the front door, but abruptly stops when he hears a pained cry from the front lawn’s bushes. Erik’s heads snaps towards the sound, and sure enough he manages to just catch sight of a mop of brown hair before it ducks out fo view, _CharlesCharlesCharles;_ running over Erik sees the brunet curled in on himself. Hidden, trying to disappear. _Terrified._ Erik slowly kneels down in front of his friend, hands trembling as he reaches out, fear making him breathless at what he may find. It’s like a punch to the solar plexus when Charles jumps away from him, already struggling as he cries from what he must think is his attacker, left arm held protectively to his chest - the angle of it sickeningly _wrong_ \- as he thrashes out with his right.

“Charles,” Erik tries calming the brunet, hands held up in surrender. Taming a terrified and abused animal. “Charles it’s _me_ , Erik!”

It takes a moment, but the quaking teen looks up at Erik, _mein Gott,_ “E-Erik?”

Charles’ once unblemished and clear pale skin in now a mottled mess of black and blue, eyebrow weeping crimson down his temple and jaw, Erik doesn’t mean to but the sharp inhale tells Charles all he must need to know about how he looks. Erik knows he pales, _knows_ he must look stricken and young with fear, be he _cannot_ look _weak -_ not when Charles so clearly needs him to be strong. The brunet ducks his head at Erik’s expression, but only for a second, before launching himself at the teenager and clutching onto him.

“You…you _came_ ,” he sobs into Erik’s shoulder, voice wrecked and unbelieving, “ _you came for me_.”

“I’ll always come for you, Charles,” he doesn’t plan the words, but as a sob catches in his throat, Erik finds he means them with his _entire_ being.

There’s a moment of nothing but Erik listening to the smaller young man cry, Charles suddenly seeming _so_ _young and vulnerable_ in his arms, and the murderous rage he feels is almost _overwhelming_. Erik pulls away slowly, cupping the brunet’s face as gently as possible as he wipes away tears from his cheek, throat trying to work and almost failing him - but he manages, somehow. Charles looks up at Erik, lost and scared, the hope in his eyes diminishing slightly as though he’s scared Erik will leave him, _as if I could ever leave him after this._

“Where is he?” He rasps, damn near _growls_ out the question _,_ but just as quickly nearly _screams at himself_ for the way Charles shrinks back slightly at Erik’s threatening tone.

Charles shakes his head, suddenly thrown off balance by the simple action, and clutches to Erik for balance who immediately steadies him in turn, “no…no please I just… _please_ get me away from here, _I’m begging you_ Erik _.”_

Erik has to fight through his primal rage, beat _down_ the instinctual reaction to _decimate_ the bastard who had done this to Charles - to kind and beautiful and _loving_ Charles - and he almost isn’t able to, but the way Charles clutches at him like a lifeline when he moves away, not more than an inch, is what decides it. The young German moves to help the teenager up, doing his best not to jostle the worst of Charles is injuries, and gets him to Erik’s car as carefully but quickly as possible. Erik helps Charles in to the backseat, laying him down, and tries to keep him from further injuring his left hand. Erik glares at the towering mansion, almost giving into the need for revenge, but stills when Charles whimpers his name; shaking his head of his rage, Erik rushes back to the driver’s seat and takes off, away from the scene of the crime.

Erik keeps glancing at Charles through his review mirror, “talk to me Charles, you can’t go to sleep.”

“Hurts…” is all the brunet manages, crying out when he tries cradling his left wrist.

“We have to get you to a hosp-“ Erik’s words are immediately cut off, Charles all but jolting up straight, his sickly pallor somehow _worsening_.

“NO!”The sudden shout almost has Erik swirling off the road, “please don’t- we _can’t,_ no one can know, Erik, _please.”_

“Charles you-” Erik stops upon glancing at the rearview mirror, heart all but halting in his chest when he doesn’t see Xavier’s blue eyes, craning his neck to see - _oh god no -_ Charles laying limp and unconscious in his backseat. “Scheiße!”

Erik’s mind races, his heart nearly gives up on him, and decides to pullover to the side of the road before he crashes. His mind scrambles for what to do next, logic and reason tell him to take Charles to the hospital despite the teen’s pleads, but can’t bring himself to do so after hearing the desperation in Charles’ voice. _Fuckfuckfuck FUCK!_ What was he supposed to _do?!_ Charles- _wait, that’s it!_ Erik all but rips his phone from his pocket and does his best to scroll through his contact with tumbling hands, searching through the names for just a moment before finally - _finally -_ finding the one he’s been looking for.

_C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!_ Erik internally repeats, phone pressed to his ear, hands trembling as they clutch onto the steering wheel and device, _I swear I’ll do whatever you want, just_ please _make her answer, ich flehe dich an!_

After a few rings, Erik almost ends the call to try again when the ringing stops and a groggy voice grits out, “ **Erik? Was zum Teufel? Weißt du wie spät es ist?** ”

“Wanda!” Erik rushes out, already breathless with panic and - honestly - on the verge of _passing the fuck out_. “Ich brauche deine Hilfe! I…I need you, _please,_ I’m sorry but-”

“ **Wait, wait, wait, what’s going on?** ” Wanda cuts in, voice more alert and clearly worried at her younger cousin’s distress. “ **Bist du in Ordnung? Did something happen?** ”

“I can’t…” Erik lets out a shuddering breathe, trying to regain composure, Charles _needed_ him and he could _not_ risk passing out. “I can’t take him to the ER, Wanda, he’s hurt so… _so_ badly but I…I _promised_ him I wouldn’t, and…and I don’t know who else to go to.”

“ **Who Erik? _Who’s_ hurt?** ”

“My friend, Charles, his bastard of a step-brother-” he stops himself, gritting his teeth, _need to get back on track_. “Wanda, _please_ , you’re the closest thing to a sister I have and the only doctor I know.”

The young woman on the other end sighs, but Erik feels instant relief when he hears shifting on the other end, nearly _crying_ when she speaks, “ **you remember where out clinic is, yes?** ”

“Yeah…yes, I do.”

“ **Meet me there, but Erik, we _will_ have to take your friend to the hospital if it’s something I cannot fix, verstehst du?**” Her tone brooked no room for argument, Erik acquiesced and thanked Wanda before hanging up, pulling back onto the road and tried his best not to break the speed limit as he raced down to his cousin’s clinic - he didn’t think he succeeded.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve done the best I can,” Wanda says after a little more than an hour of treating Charles’ wounds, pulling off her latex gloves, “his wrist was dislocated, probably by a pull if not by landing on it wrong, I’ve set it and the bindings should hold him over for a few days, at _most_ , but he _will_ have to go see a proper doctor to make sure it’s properly cared for and prevent any permanent damage. I treat cats, Erik, not people.”

Erik gets up and rushes over to Charles’ prone form on the examination table, Charles’ legs bent at the knees where they dangle off the edge, a vet’s examination table clearly not meant for humans. Erik turns to his cousin and rushes her, hugging her as tightly as possible, his unsteady trembling from earlier now lessened to slight tremors as he comes down from the adrenaline - _I’m going to pass out,_ he thinks. Wanda wraps her arms around the tall teenager, rubbing his back soothingly and kisses his temple, pulling back slightly to run a thumb over his cheek.

“Now do you want to tell me why you brought a beat up kid to a vet for help instead of an _actual_ hospital?”

Erik nods, knowing after everything Wanda had done for him he owed her an explanation, at the very least. They remain in the examination room as he tells her the night’s events as best he can, and he sees the anger and sympathy flowing across her eyes - _they’re almost as expressive as Charles’ -_ as she glances over at Charles, unconsciously squeezing Erik’s hand.

After a beat of silence Wanda sighs, “that would explain the older bruising I saw.”

Erik’s attention snaps over to prone figure on the table, then back to his cousin, “what do you mean?”

Wanda searches Erik’s face, her frail but skilled hand squeezing his in comfort as she speaks, “while I’m worried about his wrist, the main damage seems to be to his chest, arms and face - he’d fought back, _hard,_ that much is clear,” pride swells in Erik’s chest at that, but it’s undermined by the fact of _why_ Charles had to fight back at all, “but on his side, there’s a bruise there that’s at _least_ a day old, and if you’re right about his step-brother, then it would mean this wasn’t the first time he’d beaten Charles.”

Anger and self-loathing all but consume Erik right then, images of the way Charles had flinched and winced at Tony’s house and in his car suddenly making his stomach roil, the bitter taste of bile coating his molars. How had he not realized sooner? Had Stark known? He had to, he pulled Charles aside, so why hadn’t he _done_ anything?!

Erik’s pulled from his thoughts when Wanda gently squeezes his shoulder, “I’m worried there may be internal bleeding, so far there are no signs of it, but if he starts to get dizzy or faints you _have_ to take him to the ER, no matter what he says, okay?”

Erik nods, promising his cousin he’ll take him regardless when Charles is a bit better to get his wrist looked at, with a nod Wanda moves to leave, and Erik knows he owes her far more than a simple thank you despite her reassuring him she was happy he came to her for help. Wanda helps Erik load Charles back into his car, the brunet only conscious enough to assist in making the process easier on them, before promptly falling asleep the moment he’s laid down into the worn vehicle.

“Take these,” Wanda says just as Erik sits down in the driver’s seat, holding out extra disinfectant wipes and gauze, “make sure to clean and redress his wounds in the morning, they aren’t too bad, but it’s good to be cautious.”

“Thank you Wanda, really, for everything,” Erik says as he sets the items in the passenger’s seat beside him.

“Don’t mention it,” she answers with a smile, closing the car door and leaning down to rest her arms on the window’s edge. “Really, don’t, Pietro will probably kill me if he found out.”

Erik chuckles, telling Wanda to say hi to her brother for him before wishing her a goodnight - or morning, really - and driving back to his house, feeling bad but having no other choice but to wake Charles up in order to go in. Xavier grumbles sleepily but complies, pliant in Erik’s strong arms as he guides the young Englishmen into his home and to his room, careful not to jostle the brunet’s injuries too much when he lays Charles down. Erik tucks Charles in and takes off his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment and doesn’t bother to stop himself from running a hand through Charles is hair.

The cruelty of his mind comes in waves, memories of each time Charles had winced and hissed when he’d moved too fast or was touched too roughly by their friends, the way he’d sometimes refuse to swim with his friends or in class for one reason or another; each time Erik had overheard him laugh and explain that he was simply clumsy and _that’s_ why he had another bruise. The signs were all there, and yet everyone was too blind to see, all choosing to believe Charles is lies rather than face the truth - leaving Charles _alone_ in his pains in struggles.

“You’re not alone,” Erik whispers, leaning down to gingerly kiss Charles is head, “not anymore.”

Erik moves to grab a chair, ready to remain awake and keep vigil at Charles is side when the brunet mumbles, “…Erik?”

“Yes Charles?”

“Don’t…don’t leave me, please.”

Erik smiles softly, “I won’t, I was just going to grab a chair.”

The brunet seems to consider something, his eye somehow bright despite the clear exhaustion in them, and carefully Charles shifts to one side of the bed.

“Please stay?”

Charles’ tone is hesitant, but hopeful, and Erik doesn’t think he could ever find it in himself to deny him, instead he moves carefully onto the mattress and slots into the bed beside Charles. The brunet only hesitates a moment before curling into Erik’s side, the larger of the two immediately wrapping lithe arms carefully around the smaller teenager’s waist - right then, ;looking down at Charles’ peaceful face as he drifts off to sleep, Erik doesn’t think he could ever let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a though one! So Erik finally knows everything that is going on with Charles, and he clearly isn't a happy bunny about it! Once again I'm really sorry for the late update everyone, I hope this chapter made it up to you and please let me know what you thought in the comments down below!
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> \- (TITLE) Du Bist Nicht Allein: You're Not Alone  
> \- Was zum Teufel: What the hell  
> \- Scheiße: Shit/Crap  
> \- Mein Gott: My God  
> \- Ich flehe dich an: I implore you  
> \- Erik? Was zum Teufel? Weißt du wie spät es ist?: Erik? What the hell? Do you know what time it is?  
> \- Ich brauche deine Hilfe!: I need your help!  
> \- Bist du in Ordnung?: Are you alright?  
> \- verstehst du?: do you understand?  
> (I'm not going to lie, I used Google Translate for all of this, so I'm sorry if there's any mistakes!)
> 
> (This story has also been posted on Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


	7. We Both Know You're Going to Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.  
> That’s what this storm’s all about.”   
> ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! I'm SO sorry for the delay with this final chapter! These past few weeks have been shitty, but I won't get into it, instead I'll sat that I have Good News and Bad News...
> 
> The Bad News is: this final chapter is being posted so late.  
> The Good News is: because of my crappy few weeks, I wanted to put more positivity into the world and have added an epilogue to this final chapter that I hope makes up for the delay and leaves you smiling!
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!!

The morning comes sooner for Erik than it does for Charles, who is still limp and sleep at the German’s side, for a moment the teenager panics thinking Charles is _too_ still, until the pale teenager snuffles in his sleep and buries his face against the crook of Erik’s arm - the relief is instant. The silence stretches on, but not for very long, the small brunet chokes on a groan before bolting upright and scaring the ever-loving _shit_ out of Erik. However, it’s only as Charles takes in his surroundings, recognition filling his eyes, that his tense shoulders slump and he breathes out a hiss - his jerky movements coming back to bite him, no doubt; hands coming up instinctually to rest gingerly over his ribs. Charles’ gaze slides over to Erik, who stares back for a moment before moving to the restroom he and his mother share, digging through the medicine cabinet and comes out victorious with a bottle of prescribed painkillers - the remains of his soccer injury from last summer.

Erik goes into the apartment’s kitchen to grab a piece of bread and bottle of water, knowing Charles couldn’t have the painkillers on an empty stomach, and felt slightly paranoid that Wanda would somehow _sense_ if he did and be breaking down Erik’s door in retribution for his idiocy. Charles says nothing as Erik hands him the bread and bottled water, the duo sitting in silence as the brunet munched on the - perhaps slightly _stale_ \- piece of food, before handing him two pills. However, it’s as Charles sets down the now empty bottle that he suddenly chokes out a pain sound, Erik’s protective instincts kicking back up, only to stop in his tracks when the brunet bursts into tears. Erik moves before his mind even registers it, lithe arms wrapping around trembling slender shoulders, and holds Charles as he cries into his chest.

“I…I’m sorry, I never meant-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, do you hear me?” Erik grates out, burying his nose into Charles in soft and thick mane, “ _nothing.”_ Charles chokes out a wet sound, his shaking hands fisting into Erik’s dampened shirt, but thankfully he nods and Erik feels himself relax slightly. “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“Erik don’t, it’s fine-”

“Nothing about this is _fine,_ Charles! Do you really expect to just sit here after that fucking dog beat the _shit_ out of the guy I care for?!” Erik can’t help the way he yells, he _knows_ he should be soft spoken and comforting to Charles after everything the teenager had been through the night before, but _how could he?_

“You care for me?” Charles pulls back slightly, tear-streaked face tilted up to stare at Erik, who stares down at him in confusion before stilling, his words finally catching up with him, but there was no point in denying it - it was the truth, after all.

Erik is still breathing hard when he comes to the decision, and ducks his head down to press his lips against the softness that is Charles’ mouth; this wasn’t how he _ever_ thought their first kiss would go, but right then then, Erik couldn’t think of it happening any other way. The kiss tastes like pennies and something that is so uniquely _Charles_ , and Erik never wants it to end. Pulling apart, Erik stares down at Charles, the pale teenager flushing in a way that just _wasn’t fair,_ but smiles back all the same. 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you.” Erik shifts and rests his forehead against Charles’, “if I ever did.”

“If you ever did?”

Erik pulls back enough to look down at the bruised teenager, and chuckles humorlessly, “Charles we’ve been at each other’s throats for years, all we _ever_ did was fight…how was I supposed to tell you? Hell, I only admitted it to _myself_ after seeing you with Logan drove me insane.”

Charles grins at that, the expression faltering slightly because of his split lip, but doesn’t cease, “are you telling me I made Erik Lehnsherr jealous? Wow, I didn’t think that was _possible_ ,” his teasing words are fond enough that Erik laughs softly, because it was the truth; until Charles, Erik was unflappable. “I didn’t even know you liked men…”

“Not men,” Erik presses a quick but carefully gentle kiss against the corner or Charles is mouth, “just you.”

“ _And_ you’re a total cheeseball, that’s definitely a surprise,” Charles giggles, grinning up at Erik who chuckles, but it isn’t long until Erik’s smile begins to slip into a frown - the mottled bruises on Charles is paled face a stark reminder of last night.

“Charles-” Erik’s words die on his tongue as the smaller teen leans up to press his face into the crook of his neck, hands fisting at his shirt - almost desperately.

“Please Erik just…don’t, I don’t want to think about last night right now, please just…” Erik’s breathing falters when he feels Charles’ teeth scrape against the tendons of his neck, the press of their bodies suddenly holding a different energy than it had seconds ago. "I just want to forget about it…please Erik, just for now, _please_ …”

Any arguments Erik may have contested with die right then, the pleading of Charles is voice, the press of his body against his own; Charles is lips against the heated skin of his neck, it was all too much. It was everything he wanted. Overwhelming. Too much yet not enough. A voice in Erik’s head told him this was a bad idea with the state Charles was in, but as he laid the brunet down, he was awestruck at the moan Charles breathes out when Erik lays a kiss just under his jaw - tilting his head to the side, inviting. Erik would like to claim he was suave and controlled, but right then he and Charles were nothing more than clumsy teenagers chasing their release with each other’s bodies.

“Erik,” Charles gasps, hips jolting up towards the larger teen, pressing his growing hardness against Erik’s own.

“Charles, we- _shit,_ we shouldn’t, you’re-” Erik’s words die instantly, Charles’ lips against his own an advantage Erik could only think of as _unfair._

“But I want to,” Charles breathes, blue eyes drowning in darkened lust, but it’s there - Erik can’t unsee it once he’s noticed; insecurity, “don’t…don’t you?

_As if that was ever a question,_ Erik thinks to himself, but instead ducks down and kisses Charles in reply.

Charles moans, softly but no less meaningful, and Erik feels any and all sense leave him right then; Charles wanted this, Erik _craved_ this, so why stop now?

“Erik…oh yes, Erik _please,”_ Charles whimpers, but not in pain, but _desperation_ as his hips buck up to meet the taller teen’s hips.

“Charles,” Lehnsherr groans, the name like a prayer on his lips, and kisses the boy beneath him - his need to taste him almost _maddening_.

Erik groans, rutting himself against Charles as he clutches at his bedsheets at the beneath them, carefully keeping his torso off of Charles is battered body, and kisses down the side of his neck. _He’s perfect,_ Erik thinks, laving at the pale expanse of Charles’ neck, _so perfect and_ mine… _I’m never leaving him again. Mine._ They last mere minutes, both teenagers spilling into their own pants far more quickly then either may have wanted, and after their choked off moans die off a silence falls over them. Erik pulls back enough to stare down at Charles, the flushed teenager stares back at Erik with an endearing mix of embarrassment and mirth, and right then something breaks, both teenagers doubling over in laughter.

“Well…that was…”

“Nice?” Charles offers through his laughter, running a hand through Erik’s damp hair.

“Yeah, lets go with ‘nice’,” they laugh harder, Charles wincing but laughs harder despite his body’s clear protests, before they calm down and Erik groans. “That was defiantly not how I thought our first time would go.”

Charles snorts, unattractive yet somehow attractive all at once, “when have we _ever_ done things the right way ‘round?”

“That’s fair,” Erik grins, pressing a gentle kiss to Charles’ lips before murmuring, “okay, now this just _gross_ …bath?”

Charles smiles and nods, “a bath would be great.”

Erik helps Charles up, sexual appetites sated - for now, damn teenage libidos - and heads into the apartment’s bathroom. Erik is careful as he disrobes Charles, hesitating for a moment before stripping off his own clothes, much to the shorter teen’s delight, and both step into the tub. Erik knows better than to turn on the shower-head, instead opening the tap and grabs a hand towel; slowly, he begins cleaning Charles’ sticky skin with smooth strokes. Like this, bare to each other, Erik sees the true extent of Charles is injuries, and feels the anger in his chest burst back into life, but tamps it down and does his best to focus on cleaning Xavier - or at least, he tries.

“Why protect him?” Erik knows he sounds like he’s begging, but at this point he _is_ , because he _needed_ to know why Charles would protect someone as disgusting as Cain despite his own safety.

“I’m not ‘protecting' him, Erik…” Charles sighs, shifting around in the narrow tub when Erik taps his side, back arching slightly into the warmth of the wet cloth as Erik cleans his back. “I’m protecting my mum. Calling the cops on Cain means my mother would get into trouble too, and I know...I _know_ she hasn’t been the best mum to me, but she _does_ try at times, and I still love her despite everything; I even swore Tony to secrecy.”

“Tony knew, then.” Charles sighs in a way that tells Erik he’s been expecting the anger, and nods. “That _asshole_ -”

“I forced him not to, Erik,” Charles cuts in, quick to defend his friend. “I had dealt with it on my own fine until one of Cain’s more angry days, I needed help after Cain had- the _point_ is Tony was there for me, he didn’t pity me and has had my back every time I needed him since. Tony was the first person I told any of this to, and he’d _wanted_ to call the cops, but I told him not to…so caring for the aftermath was the best he could do; don’t be angry with him, it was my choice.

“ _None_ of you had any reason to believe my explanations of being clumsy were a lie, because lets face it, I _am_ an idiot at times, but I just…I didn’t want the _pity_. I know it sounds like a easy out, but it’s the truth. Going to the cops would have meant tearing my family apart worse than it already is, and then I would have been _that_ kid, the one who was abused at home and-”

“You thought everyone would pity you,” Erik concludes for him, and right then the teenager wanted to spin Charles around, to face him as he shook sense into the idiot of a young genius. “Charles, I know we’ve never been close, but you clearly don’t know your friends as well as you think you do if you ever believed they’d pity you.”

Erik sets aside the rag when Charles turns to face him, “you can’t know they won’t.”

“Maybe not, but I sure as hell know I wouldn’t, that Tony and _Steve_ wouldn’t, and I _know_ we’d damn well fight anyone that _did_ ,” Charles chuckles, it’s weak and a little less than sincere, but he looks thoughtful so Erik will take it as a win. “I think you should move in with Tony.”

Charles’ attention snaps back onto Erik’s face, almost spluttering, “ _what?”_

“You said it yourself, Charles, Tony’s had you back since the beginning of all this,” Erik takes a slender hand into his larger ones, thumbs caressing smooth knuckles, “lord knows he has the space, and I doubt he’d say no.”

“But-”

“Charles, last night could have gone _so much worse,”_ Erik grates out, heart pulsing in his ears at the very _notion_ , “what if I’m not there to find you next time? What if you can’t call for help? Please, at least _ask_ Tony. You’re nearly eighteen, so if you’re _really_ hellbent on not going to the cops, I just want you to be _safe.”_

Charles stares at Erik in silence, a swirl of emotions playing across cerulean eyes, before he nods - Erik feels something tense in his chest untie itself, and can breathe normally again.

“I’ll speak with Tony.”

“Thank you,” Erik leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to Charles’ lips, he knows he has no rights to make demands, and feels grateful Charles had relented all the more. “That’s all I ask.”

Charles says nothing and only kisses him again and Erik happily returns it. The duo move out of the tub after draining the bath, and change into clean clothes before settling back on Erik’s bed, wrapped around each other. Erik plays with the damp locks of Charles is soft hair, the smaller teenager all but purring at the repetitive action, and Erik feels a slow grin pull lazily at his lips as he stares down at Charles; he grins back and raises a brow.

“What?”

“Just realizing I like you wearing my clothes,” Erik chuckles softly, his clothes were bigger on Charles, loose and otherwise unflattering to his slender frame, and yet he managed to make it seem all the more endearing.

“Good, because I like wearing them,” Charles chuckles softly, presses a soft kiss to Erik’s mouth, “they’re comfy…I love them.”

“Yeah?” Erik feels his breathing stuttering in his chest, his gaze locked on Charles’, and suddenly thinks _we’re not talking about the clothes, are we?_

Charles stares up at Erik, the struggle to remain awake evident with the way his eyes begin to drop closed, but reaches up to kiss Erik all the same, “yes, I do.”

Erik swallows, the _click_ of his throat almost defeating in the silent room, Erik holds Charles tighter and buries his nose in his thick tresses, “good…because I do, too.”

* * *

 

The following Wednesday finds them back at Charles’ family home, parked outside in Erik’s car, and Erik doesn’t hesitate to take the brunet’s hand in his own when it seeks his out, “this is a bad idea.”

Charles turns to look at Erik, hesitation and nerves scribbled across his slowly healing face, but before he can speak the teenager sighs, “no, no you’re right, lets do this.”

Xavier gets out of Erik’s car with the latter right behind him, and only spares the taller teenager one backwards glance before marching into his house with a determination in his eyes that has Erik grinning fondly. Erik waits for Charles at the foot of the staircase leading to the second floor of the house, he knew Charles needed to do this on his own, and respected his wishes - though that didn’t mean he’d let his guard down. Tony had come through for Charles within _seconds_ of their conversation, once his anger had calmed down, Stark had admitted to having been prepared for this day years ago; a room for Charles at the Stark estate was ready to be used, all that remained was it’s occupant - it was because of that little nugget of information that Erik felt slightly less angry at Tony. Slightly _._

“Who are you?” A voice demands from behind Erik, one the teenager recognizes from passing in their school’s hallways, and attacks before he can even _think_ of diplomacy.

That’s how Charles finds him once he’s hauled a suitcase down the stairs of his family home; Erik looming over Charles is step-brother with a bruised fist, yelling obscenities at the ox of a teenager that stares up at him in shock from the floor, clutching his bloody nose - _I hope it’s broken,_ Erik prays.

“That’s a _warning, Du Abschaum,”_ Erik growls, his native tongue slipping out despite himself, “you touch, or so much as _look_ at Charles again and I’ll run you over with a fucking truck, do you understand?!”

Cain nods like a coward from his position on the floor of the Xavier mansion, Erik doesn’t bother with the blundering fool any longer, and instead turns to help Charles with his suitcase and ushers the smaller brunet out of the house. Charles says nothing the entire way, simply glancing over at Erik every few seconds, and Erik worries if that may not be a good thing; _is he angry? Upset with me?_ Erik wonders, but grits his teeth, _I’d do it all over again given the chance,_ this _I won’t apologize for._ They reenter Erik’s car in silence, about to pull out of the driveway, when Charles finally turns towards Erik - he won’t admit to tensing ever so slightly, hands flexing their grip on his steering wheel.

“You didn’t have to do that,” to Erik’s surprise, there isn’t any anger or accusation in Charles is tone - perhaps there’s even a little appreciation there.

“I know I didn’t,” Erik answers easily, pulling our of the Xavier driveway, shoulders loosening, “but there’s no way I’d let anyone think they could get away with hurting my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Charles repeats, his voice carefully blank, but Erik can hear the hint of hope there despite what Charles may have wanted.

Erik turns his attention onto Charles, leaning over the car’s console and presses a kiss to the young Englishmen’s lips, his chest warming when he feels them curl into a smile against his own, “yes, my boyfriend…if you’ll have me, that is?”

Pulling back enough to read Charles is face, bright eyes somehow shine brighter with the tears that well up in them, Erik feels worry crawl up his spine for a split second but the feeling disappears entirely when the brunet surges forward; the kiss is reckless, electric, and _everything_ Erik never thought he could ever feel for another person - _the stuff of fairytales_ , he privately thinks to himself. Erik pulls onto the road, Charles is hand warm and comforting in his own as they drive towards the Stark mansion, and Erik can’t help but feel like this is all the start of something; something that was somehow borne out of childish fights and emotionally stunted moronic teenagers.

* * *

 

**Epilogue**

Something Erik _knows_ he’s lucky to have, something that will only grow and flourish with age; Erik turns to see Charles smiling at him, a glint in his mesmerizing eyes, and knows Charles feels the same way. “You brought the bail money?”

“You’re being ridiculous-”

“-the _least_ you could do is pay-”

“-don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“-I mean you _are_ the reason this is going to end in manslaughter-”

“-I swear you’re both _so_ dramatic, Erik!”

Erik and Tony stare each other down, only Tony’s hardened expression cracks within seconds, his whole body _shaking_ with laughter, “I swear, not even _I_ was this nervous, and _I’m_ supposed to be the anxiety-riddled neurotic of this friend group!” Tony steps forward, his next words coming out in a deadpan as he pokes Erik’s chest, “there can only be one, Lehnsherr, and I called dibs.”

Said ‘deadpan’ lasted for about a fraction of a second before Tony cackled like a coyote all over again, _didn’t I tell myself go find better friends on that_ _very day?_ Erik sighs at himself, stilling a little when another thought occurs to him, _Christ, don’t tell me I’m turning into Tony, I’m not_ that _forgetful!_

“Anyway,” Tony says after a moment, wiping tears - _yep,_ actual _tears, the little shit, what does Steve even see in him? -_ from his eyes while stifling his giggles, “did you bring your speech with you?”

Erik blanks, staring at his long time best friend with a muted expression.

“Shit,” Erik says just as his mind states, _it’s official, you’re Stark’s long lost brother._

“Good thing I snatched it before we left then,” Erik and Tony whip around to see Steve, grinning - _they’re_ both _little shits,_ that’s _why they work,_ Erik notes silently, but feels the fondness towards these two growing in-spite of his surface irritation - and walks over, a creased sheet of paper in hand, "I swear, where would you two be without me?”

“Probably sleeping with some runway model,” Tony grins, leaning back into his husband’s embrace, and Erik scoffs.

“He means his father’s couch.”

“Good thing to know my competition is a _couch.”_ Steve huffs, incredulous, before laughing and pecking the top of Tony’s head.

“It’s designer.”

“Because _that_ makes it better,” Steve rolls his eyes in a way only _he_ could, conveying both annoyance and fondness for the man in his arms. “You guys ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Erik sighs, unfolding the paper in his hands, eyes wandering over the words he’d written and _rewritten_ about half a dozen times, but taking nothing in.

“I should go take a seat, lord knows Raven and Nat are probably driving Clint and Wanda up the walls by now,” Tony says before jetting out of the restroom, Erik watches him go until a hand on his shoulder get his attention, and meets Steve’s sincere gaze.

“It’ll be okay, Erik,” Rogers reassures, and Erik _wants_ to believe him, because over the years there wouldn’t be any reason _not_ to - and yet he _still_ feels near-overwhelming worry and insecurity clawing at his insides.

“I hope so.”

Steve shakes his head, pulling his best friend in for a hug, “well, I _know_ so, now lets get out there and watch your genius boyfriend get his degree, huh?”

Erik follows Steve out into the Oxford graduation hall, taking a seat beside their long line of friends, and all watch in anticipation as each graduate’s name is called. Erik feels his anticipation building, casting a glance to his side he knows their friends feel the same, but it isn’t until Charles is name is called that pandemonium breaks out in the esteemed campus is graduation hall. Erik would _like_ to say he was more mature, but that would be a blatant lie with the how he shouts and hollers just as loudly as the rest of them, only to be egged on when Charles sees his rowdy friends from stage and laughs as he waves.

It isn’t until the after party that Erik’s nerves return with a vengeance, his breast pocket nearly burning a _hole_ in his chest, but does his best to appear nonchalant despite his trembling hands and frayed nerves. Everyone from Tony and Steve, to Natasha, Raven and Wanda - even Bruce and Hank - all let loose, each friend ragging on Charles for being an overachiever, but each teasing jest is coated with so much love and pride for their friend it would be ridiculous to take it as anything other than the not-so-well-hidden praise that it is. Charles is leaning flush against Erik’s side at the bar, laughing over something Jean had just said, when he meets Tony’s gaze, the smaller brunet giving him a nod, and Erik musters up the courage to tap Charles is shoulder.

“Yes love?” Charles asks, turning to face Erik, who stands stalk still for a moment, wondering if he’s about to make the best or - perhaps _worst_ \- decision of his life, “Erik?”

“Charles,” Lehnsherr begins, wondering if it’s too late to pull out the sheet of paper from his back pocket for one last reminder of what to say - because honestly, Erik’s forgotten every eloquently prepared word, and now he’s left floundering, doing his best just to _speak._ “We’ve been together now for nearly six years, and honestly, they’ve been the best years of my life.”

Charles stares at Erik, brows creased in confusion, perhaps wondering why Erik - as emotionally stunted as even _he_ admits to being - is suddenly spilling his guts out; in public, no less.

“When we met, we all but hated each other, and while I wish the circumstances were different,” Erik breathes out a shakily, taking Charles’ hand in his own for some kind of grounding strength, “I couldn’t imagine having met you any other way.”

“Of course,” the brunet grins, squeezing his lover’s hand fondly, “because you just _love_ everything to be a challenge,” Charles teases, and it’s as Erik stares down at the smiling genius, that he relaxes slightly, thinking _maybe this_ will _be okay._

“I do,” Erik admits through a chuckle, free hand reaching into his breast pocket, “and you were worth fighting for, Charles, _that_ is not something I could _ever_ regret. You’re honestly the best thing to happen to me, and I can’t _imagine_ ever going on without you, that said….” Hush falls over their group of friends, several pairs of wide eyes now trained on the duo, Erik thinks _it’s now or never,_ and drops to one knee.

“Charles Xavier, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Charles stares down at Erik, brilliant eyes flicking from the opened ring box in his hand to the man he’d been with since high school, and says…nothing. Charles says nothing _, why isn’t he_ saying _anything?_ Erik thinks, panicked, suddenly every nerve and insecurity thrashing back to life within him; none of which is helped by the way Charles is gaze _hardens_ , his lips thinning. _This was a mistake,_ Erik’s panicked mind screams, _why did I push for more when everything I had was_ perfect?! _Why couldn’t I just be happy with-_

“You arsehole,” Charles groans out, and Erik feels his heart sink to the floor - believing that if he looks down he’ll see it bleeding out by his suit’s knee.

Erik swallows, lowering his hands, “Charles I-”

“Oh don’t you _dare,_ Lehnsherr, _”_ Xavier suddenly cuts in, dropping to _his_ knees and- wait, are you-

“You’re kidding me,” Erik gapes, staring down at the box- the _ring_ box Charles had snatched from _his_ breast pocket. “You’re fucking _kidding_ me!”

“You couldn’t have waited _ten more minutes?!”_ Charles asks, smiling despite his attempt at appearing frustrated, but doesn’t bother fighting back the giggles that escape him. “Erik Lehnsherr, _I’d_ be the luckiest man alive to marry you, only if _you_ agree to marry _me_ , too.”

Erik can’t help it, he _cracks up._ Erik _howls_ in laughter, their friends staring at the cackling duo as though they’d lost their minds in the most adorably _bizarre_ attempt at a proposal on earth - though, they may not be entirely wrong. Erik throws himself at Charles, knowing he’s probably crushing his husband- _mein Gott, he’s my husband now_ , and nods - perhaps a little frantically - against his shoulder.

“Yes, Charles,” Erik replies, voice little scratchy and wet, but Erik can’t find it in himself to care as the smaller man holds him just as tightly. “ _Yes!”_

Their friends burst into cheers, but all Erik can see or hear is _Charles_ who whispers against his neck, “as if it was ever a question,” before pulling back and kissing Erik - the same words Erik had thought all those years ago, when all this, when _they,_ had truly began their lives together. Erik thinks other bar patrons also cheer, but he isn’t sure, because all he _does_ know is that this man - this amazing, kind, _perfect_ man - had just agreed to marry him. To spend his _life_ with him. Erik kisses Charles with every ounce of his being, and even then _knows_ it’s hardly even scratching the surface of how he feels at that very moment.

Charles rests his head against the taller’s forehead, “I love you, Erik, _husband_.”

“I love you too, mein Schatz,” Erik sighs, leaning to press another kiss against plush lips, “ _my_ husband.”

Steve and Tony stare at their best friends, grinning like goons as they clap and cheer amongst their friends, leaning against one another, “you knew Charles was going to propose, didn’t you?”

Steve smirks at his husband, pressing a kiss to his temple, “you’re not the only evil genius in this marriage, sweet heart.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! AHH!! I can't believe this story is over!! It's so surreal, I haven't posted a proper multi-chapter story in AGES, let alone from start to finish, and I'm both so happy and sad that it's over! However, going forward I'm hoping to post more stories, and that's largely in part to all of your amazing support on this one! I want to thank each and every one of you for liking, commenting, and reading this story! I love you all so much, I hope you enjoyed our boys' final chapter, and hope you have a wonderful day!!
> 
> xxoxoo  
> ~ Zombie
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Du Abschaum = You scum  
> Mein Gott = My God  
> Mein Schatz = My sweetheart
> 
> (This story has also been posted on Tumblr under my same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I really hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did writing it! Its been SO long since I last posted anything, so your thoughts and comments would be much appreciated!! This story will be updated once a week, so until then let me know what you thought! xxoxoo
> 
> (This story has also been posted on my Tumblr account under the same username, but nowhere else, so if you find it elsewhere please let me know!!)


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